Hold the joy of the Sun
by the Grey wolf and Dragon
Summary: When madness and death had taken its toll. Questions are asked, why is Gotham such a place of fright? Could it really be that Ra's al Ghul and his League of Shadows were truly to blame, or is there something or someone else at play? Why did all this chaos lead straight to Arkham Asylum? A place of control, only time could tell what awaits.
1. Lullaby

The heart that lost in darkness is a heavy burden to carry. This burden, this task is much like, being the iron bars that imprisons the devil in isolation. A cruel fate that constantly remains you that you'll end up a rusty trap, sooner or later?

All it takes is a push for gravity to come into effect and everything falls into fear and travesty. The deformity, the feeling of acid on you psyche that pulling madness closer and closer into shadow.

The rage, the mayhem that imprisons the dream and future has the feeling of the burning cold air in your lungs and your mind bends towards chaos. There you'd coughing up warm blood amongst a blizzard, the feeling of utter abandonment.

Yet the echo in the back of your mind, so familiar yet a total stranger but nonetheless, a voice in your head that alters the ball game and the course of history. The blood in your veins runs cold, your body still as snow and lost is the warmth of your smile, as if, the sun had fallen out of the sky and left the world in total darkness.

This darkness is much like the next world, a realm of death and madness. In such a dark world many slept for far too long, while others hunt all that sleeps. Many would never wake, while others awaken with great fright; to the screams of the devoured.

The endless nightmare fills the creatures of the land with despair and gone would be a beautiful day spent in the warmth and happiness. Their hearts would clouded over and they would all but forget that the sun was ever lost.

The terrible questions that lurk in such a dark place of dreadful truths like, a ghost of a smile. The haunting and despairing devotion that passes the hours of the endless night, that took the heart and soul.

Leaving frightful scars, the proof of the shared failures of the divided and mislead. A dangerous time, dangerous game that aims for the heart and twists the blade, leaving flames and impossible past.

Where Justice turns to vengeance and there is no saving, not even one soul. What was it all for, the peace and quit? Different spaces of having everything seen and unseen, manipulated and controlled, like a hearth.

Because in the dark world there is nothing to see, except an endless winter that seeps into the home and plunger all the warmth. Leaving an unforgivable chill in the night that traps all such realms in make-believe and downright hopelessness.

For the powers that be, had everything to gain, as they made all, believe that everything was alright in the world. When clearly everything was so wrong, even your sorry life; a life that you thought was free was never really, a life too begin with.

The coldness of such an idea is not without hope though, for the echo remains; even to the ends of the earth. In this dark world, ruled by a few; the handful that perches above the masses, picking and choosing.

Who shall fall, who shall rise and who shall sink; six feet under. Never would you realize or believe that you had joined their ranks and were merely their puppets to control; to rule, and reshape.

The powers that be do as they please, be it; the unthinkable of playing with fire. Which had doom us all; to the pull of the bottomless pit. Because the match had been struck and sooner or later, everything will burn, even the blank pages of destiny.

Because of what was built to hide the truth, a truth so far-fetched that it would label you, certified. The labyrinth that traps the echo within, so that the truth would stay hidden, never to be discovered and fly far and wide.

Much like a familiar song that warms the heart by letting the soul dance; joyously along to such a happy little tune that echoes for all too hear. Such an echo is said, to echo the creator. Because where there is life, there needs to be joyous movement and sound to make the the world whole and well.

Yet in the dark world that could never be, for they fight and fight amongst each other, Which leaves them sinking into a coma. Unknowingly dooming all realities, for each world reflects the bygone, for the war rages and takes a toll on, the mind, body and soul.

Fate had been rewritten, just too control madness and death. In the means to perpetuate their machine and line their pockets with glittering gold. Leaving nothing but, a fiery rage of despair in their wake.

The fall, the cosmic joke of worlds colliding like a illness that devours. Because they were never meant to be understood, only to disappear into the waves, to never be and to remain; all alone in a sea without a shore.

To drift way, like a bad memory and thought, as if, a prisoner. Leaving a feeling of such a great loss, which is akin to darkness and is very alike madness. Where the fallen leads the lost into what they deserve.

There is no escaping the torment of such a night, locked away without a key. Except that the night is the key, a key that was meant to be buried, as if, it were but a murderous weapon.

The single point in time was turned up side down, changed and reorganized to simply vanished into thin air like, a card in a magic trick. Because there could never be evidence of what their machine had done to space and time.

The machine that was built to take a peak of creation. A machine that needs an eye to open the gates and what lays beyond the wall is the true source of horrors untold, the lies that were build upon misery, and brings death, a dark winter that threatens all alike.

The black curtain slowly revealing the worlds upon each other. Connected, yet disconnected, unknown yet known all the same. The sun and the moon, so far, yet they move closer and closer, brings destruction and the eclipse that pulls fate.

The lonely hands of the doomsday clock, ticking away right before your very eyes, like a child that has grown up to be, a cruel reminder that the shadows breath and takes the beloved.

The clues of how, wrong everything really is, is all around. If you pay attention, you'd know that the world is gone, lost. No matter how hard you try to tell another soul, they will not believe a word that you say.

Leaving you as helpless as the child, who was unable to move much like, the perished. The world but a mirror, where the days goes by like, a shadow in the water and life is stranger than fiction.

The feeling made flesh and blood, yet not at all. Though many had journeyed and witness the suffering, the beginning and the end. Not all have understand that they were in the presence of the symbols of madness and death.

Never knowing that during the end of days, they'd appear for all to adore, when all should have bewared. Reality is broken, like a vision that left children in a living nightmare, stranded in a deep sleep much like, death itself.

The cold harshness of such a reality, would have an effect on all matter of realms. There is nothing like it, and there are no words to describe it, just maybe a feeling of regret and loss, a nothingness.

Due to greed and the lies to hide the painful truth. Like a fading memory that only god could remember, and hold onto with the promise to find, which is lost. While the watchful eyes, seek to destroy; all that cuts deep into their beloved plans of creating their ideal world.

Look around, at what they've done, leaving only a sense of emptiness, as if, nothing was real? Except the darkness, as far as the eye could see, in the hopes that everyone and everything would fall into despair, loneliness and die broken hearted.

While the powers that be; took everything right under your noses. Changing everything, so slightly that the masses would never catch on and see their handled work. Time and space is indeed broken and so, darkness sinks deeper within the heart and so to the worlds.

Lost within such darkness, there is no seeing or finding your way home. There is no trust, no hope and no love. Nothing matters but to waste away, like an old house on a hill that just sits empty, much like the emptiness of space.

* * *

In the darkness, the years stretches far beyond the feeling of letting go. A flash of lighting crosses the night-sky, the sound of thunder disturbs the timeless and a presence is known. Though it's unspoken, it has a baleful voice, it's words are only heard by the one that waits and hangs in agony.

This suffering has an echo that could shattered reality, as if, reality were but a mirror. This frightfulness, could melt realities into one another, wake the dead and bring all things full circle.

Such a fright could only be reached, by the unreachable that is clothed, as death would be; truly ugly beyond belief. Though it dances silently like, death and winter's breath. Such a dancer is known only by the one that he cannot kill. The unspoken words, a mere reflection and a clue to a fearful truth that is not for the faint of heart.

"Your weak, you can feel it, the hollow shell, the rusty trap...the time as come!"

Startled out of his nightmare, the fear and distain fades back into his subconsciousness. His loneliness washed away by the sight of the brilliant light that meets his waking eyes, pained and blurry they were.

He sees, the full moon that seemed, so strange with much suspicion. As he realizes that he was in a holding cell, so familiar; it was much like, where he had locked away his despair, all those years ago.

Bruce tries with all his will to remember, how he ended up here, but he was unable too recall. So much so that he felt ill, much like the night his beloved parents were murdered right before his very eyes.

The night that painted his face with blood and took, all the colour out of his soul. He tries once more, but to no luck at all, and he knew, his mind was spinning out of control and he was trapped.

The cage was his bitterness and his useless body that did not listen to him. Unable to move, his mind gives way to his reoccurring nightmares and negative thoughts, to which there was no shelter from such tragedies, so may had he witnessed along the way.

A sinking feeling pulls at his heart as he felt, what could only be water and it surrounds him, much like a wild fire could. This rising water so malodorous of metal, which felt just like acid eating away at his flesh, as if, it was flames fit for the devil and his fallen angels.

There was no escaping such a battle that could never be won, the taste of true madness. Anyone else would feel fright, but not him. He was far too calm; there was only relief, as the waters washed over him.

It seemed as if, he had abandoned, what little hope he held on too, as he watched the moonlight fade away in the blur of it all. His nightmares strikes a cord, as if, it was but a painful reality, in a sea of bitterness.

An odious shiver runs down Bruce's spine, crippling him with agony. He seems to drown in the pain, but that was not so, he had looked upon death and the darkness of his realm.

Death brought forth, a most frightful thought and memory of course. Matches Malone; the monster that emerged from the shadows and whom had killed his beloved family. This twisted old man, tired of his mission and his dark path.

Had come to meet the young man at his rope's end. As if, he was repaying an old debt, and he walks closer and closer. Bruce motionless as ever, his eyes very much a crime frozen in winter.

One he wished never occurred, but he still remembers it, like it was just yesterday. Fresh in his mind's eye, like a movie that played over and over, as if, he was looking for a clue to something missing in his memory?

Because to him, he has always been looking for just a clue that would, put the fallen pieces back together and he could see the big picture. For this reason, Bruce could never let go, never forget the hurt, the loss given to him that night.

Because that night took everything from him, his innocence, his childhood and his family. As if, it were all just a lie, a lie that could only be believed in and bought for a price. To just then be left, all alone and forgotten, just to collect dust on a run down bookshelf.

Because the moment his parents were killed Bruce, Thomas Wayne was nothing more but a mask, except for the guilt that built up over time. A guilt that would haunt him each waking minute of his dreary life. For there was no such thing as freedom, not for him or anyone he had a connection too.

This monster he faces, had ripped out his beating heart, leaving a hole in its place. Which pours blood everywhere, as if, he was a wall of blood in a cave of horrors? Matches Malone was indeed a monster of sorts and someone to behold for he had such a unearthly madness to his movements.

Silent and overwhelming, just as death would be, the shots fired that night still echoes. His aimed that night was for the heart and what he had took, brings unimaginable bitterness and a sea of red.

The monster cloak in dark holds, Bruce's lifeless cold heart and he then started to make a small fire with willow branches. He then tosses the coldness into the raging flames, Bruce's icky glare had such shame and regret in them, as rage took over and his thoughts were nothing but vengeance.

Because he could never kill such a man, even when he had the chance. For Bruce didn't want to be a cold-blooded killer, like him. Because he believed that justice would win in the end, though his anger made him feel as if, he was the devil dancing in the pale moonlight.

Bruce stares at the darkness that stood before him, and he realizes once more that he was never truly alive or a real person. He had no real emotions of his own, just a blank stupid face of a caged prisoner, who thought he had it all, and his life was but a terrible lie.

What memory he could recall, left him feeling that something was indeed missing but what, he couldn't recall, still. Only that for as long as he could remember, he was always left alone.

Which made it hard for him to smile or even make a sound. Here he was trying so hard on his own to make sense of his tail spin, he was pieces and there was no one to make him whole again.

Though Alfred keep an eye on him and showed him all the care in the world, it was not the same as having his parents be with him and to cherish him. Bruce, just wanted more time with his lovely parents that was all he had ever wanted.

Because most of his parents time were far too buzzy, trying to saving Gotham and it got them killed in the end. What time Bruce had with them was fleeing and the rest of his time was spend playing make-belief, hidden away in his treehouse, wishing to fly far and wide.

When the time came to buried his beloved family, it was as if, time stood still. Gotham had become a box to Bruce and such a place trapped him so. He was neither living or dead, it was was far worst then that.

There was no end in sight, no connections that could stand against the test of time. Because he knew that there was no such thing, as real happiness, just the heaviness of his emptiness.

It was a dreadful fall into darkness, and there he waits in the ground. In an endless battle of a pointless war with no clear winners or losers. Just because he could not stop a tragedy and he'd forever blame, himself for the death and madness that endures all around him?

For in his mind, a sickness spread far and wide, like a flame and his sickness; told him that he was the caused of it all. Even if, he knew better; he could not shake the negative thoughts that he created all his foes and misfortunes.

Because he could never ever stop such a man as him and from that moment on. He could only create monsters instead, after all he was the worst monster of them all. Because the child, burnt down to nothing and he remained lurking in the darkness and breathing it in.

Bruce Wayne was nothing more after that night, that wicked chill night and so he never wanted too see such, a thing happen ever again to anyone. Because the boy had perished in that alleyway along with his parents.

Though that was impossible and foolish of him, it was how he felt. Because if, it were not for Bruce, Thomas Wayne wanting to escape, to the movies that night. Then madness would not have found him, nor would his family be died?

Since then, there had been nothing, but a darkness following him around, like a cursed creature looking for a warm meal on a cold night. What a mess, what a wild nightmare of standing at the edge.

The whispers of his soul, the room of his darkness and the cold void of falling into helplessness. But somehow he had always found away to pick himself right back up from out of the mud.

Yet this time was different, he had found himself in a pool of blood, his blood, his parent's blood, and another change to his nightmare. The nightmare that wrapped Bruce's heart in coldness and his chilling glare cut down anything in his path, except for the one, who pulled the trigger.

The darkness was very much apart of him, just as much as the loneliness had. There was no flame to meet death, nothing at all, no familiar faces. Just the repeating nightmare of Matches Malone steps out of the shadows.

Bruce thinks that his prepared to face death, but that's another lie. He felt as useless, as before and he remains frozen, still like a deer caught in the headlights. Just like their first encounter that saw his world crumble around him, like hot ash of the end of days and it covered him in white, from head to toe.

Bruce tastes the blood in his mouth and he feels disgusted, as if, he had being looking into a mirror. What he saw looking back at him was a horrible creature of fright and was slowly eating at his heart.

Bruce's icy glare meet Matches Malone, and all Bruce felt was the fear turn to fury, as hot as the surface of the sun itself. Yet there was apart of him that felt, so disappointed within himself that he could not look away from such a man that he hated.

Because this man lived in such darkness and death. A man who dared to ask a child to kill him, like it was a poetic justice. Bruce had wanted to kill him, he really did, to the point that he let him, teach him how to use such a weapon.

Leaving the potential to become a killer within him, but Bruce could not pull the trigger and left him with the gun. Such thoughts would leave a person running to the hills, but there was a strange calmness to the young man.

As if, he could hear the lullaby, his mother use to sing to him, and he recalls her voice. How she told him with all her heart.

"The sun will come again, don't fear anymore my child...go back to sleep and remember that you and the sun will rise together. So dream of flying beyond the willow tree, for the nightmare will burn come sunrise and all shall be alright in the world."

Such memory had made his eyes well up with tears; it was like, he had seen beyond the mirror and saw; all his flaws that was buried away and would be the death of him? This was where a war was waged for his soul, where a monster was born and where Bruce, Thomas Wayne was forgotten like, street trash in a back alley.

Matches Malone looked him dead in the eye, as he pulls out a gun from his pocket and points it to his head. Bruce couldn't do anything, but to just copied him, as he was surprised that he too had a gun in his hand and Matches pulled the trigger and everything fell into shadow.

* * *

There was no escaping this darkness or this madness, for it was all Bruce had ever known? He awaken in a fierce sweat that soaked him to the bone, and he begins to panic, as pain hits him like, a crowbar.

The pain spreads and worsens with every breath, his situation comes into focus and he realizes, what was actually causing him pain. The breathing tube, the IV lines, just so many tubes running out of him and were like, tree branches.

Tears stream down his face, and drowns him in a sea of emotions. Because all he knew was a heavy feeling of ruin, for deep in his heart, he had felt as if, he had done something so terribly wrong, it was unforgivable.

Not even his condition could weaken his state of mind and thought. Only that he could not remember, what he had done, only that he had this feeling in his heart. Because he felt as if, he was falling in an endless hole; the dark to the madness and the undying match, of a game to see who'd burn first, the devil or him.

Never did he feel such a consuming sense of overwhelming heartache, his heart monitor sounds off. His breathing becomes more difficult, as the urgent sound of the machines echoed. His eyes rolled back into his head and everything collapses into a fever dream, filled with broken pieces much like, his heart.

His nightmare begins in total darkness, till he sees his parents, the only light, as if, they were the sun and the moon and he, the stars. He was surrounded with laughter and he felt safe and warm, loved and whole.

He remembers the joy that he held onto, and how they cared for him. As parents should and he knew that they were real. Bruce knew all to well, what was about to happen, yet he could not let it go. As if, he had missed something and so, Bruce could never give up on the questions that lurked in his head.

Like why, did they have to die? Why did he have to lose his smile? Why did his happiest moment, burn away into a nightmare, a never-ending nightmare that he could never wake up from?

In the moments to come again, everything would be ripped from him as if, a blackhole was to blame. Devastation and there was nothing left, no mess, no pain, just the black winter of gloom and doom.

Which trapped him in an endless nightfall, his nightmare and greatest fear that he was never loved or could be loved, nor could he ever be saved.


	2. Arkham

A hostile voice speaks out from the shadow and said.

" _Your mind has been strike by lighting and a terrifying thunderous echo had unleashed agony, with a pull of a trigger. Since then misfortune has followed you around, like gum stuck to your shoe and the more you try to take it off, the more it gets on everyone's nerves."_

Jerome Valeska laughs at Bruce's condition, comatose and helpless. He slaps him across the face, making him laugh harder with much irritation. As an eerie silence fills the hospitalized room, for he was far from done with him.

The vinegary glare in his eyes, hid his intention towards the torpid creature. But his tune spoke another story, one of displeasure.

 _" Brucey, you got even more boring! How is that possible? You coward! How could you try and leave without saying good-bye? Nothing, no suicide letter! What am I? Chopped liver?"_

 _"You could have brought me along for the ride, it could have been glorious; the likes that no gothamite, has ever seen before. It could have been such a show and a riot... Here I thought we were getting along just dandy, you and I?"_

Jerome's breath was heavy with such annoyance that he quickly grabbed ahold of his makeshift blade. Ready to strike Bruce, but instead, he smiled with such disappointment that he took his sit instead.

The room seemed so dark, for having a light. Jerome stirs in the silence, as he looks at the full moon in the never ending night sky. A quiet and soft voice, manifest from the depth of madness.

His voice was that of an angel and he sang, as if, he were the first bird of spring enjoying the morning dew. He sings a lullaby that could never be heard by the sleeping creature next to him?

* * *

 _"Sleep well, the stars are bright with never-ending delight"_

 _"Sleep well, in the dead of night, and dream of flying in ever-lasting starlight."_

 _"Be well; be strong in the dead of the night, fly so high, pass the willow tree and into the night."_

 _"The Sun's light, will come again to burn the nightmare away. So dream tonight and everything will be alright."_

 _"Sleep well, in the dead of the night, for the moon's dreamcatcher, will catch all the fright."_

 _"Leaving the good dream to be a reality, so that joyous movement and sound could be._

 _"Be well; be strong my darling little ones, everything will be alright, come_ _first light."_

* * *

Jerome sang with such a sweetness that you'd almost forgot he was a homicidal, manic with a flare for the spectacle, the circus freak. Who would take your soul, just by looking at his horrifying grin, like he was the grim reaper of death?

Yet here, his smile seemed so much like that of a loving brother. Who would do anything for his darling little sibling, but they were not brothers, more like enemies. Just tragic souls with no story to tell that didn't end well, it would enrage all alike; it would be pure satire of tragic proportions.

As if, the end was near and dear that Death would be dancing in the falling snow of a dark winter. The nightmare that is tied to the gun of war, which sits close to the heart broken like, obsidian glass and the mind is like, a playground.

* * *

The administrator of Arkham Asylum, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham watched his monitor screen with an expression of anguish and briskly. He paged for his orderlies to remove Jerome Valeska from Five's unit. It was making him, greatly ill that all his work would be all for nothing.

For the unhinged young man, had been in his care ever since, Paul Cicero brought him to his attention, all those years ago. Which seemed like, a life time spent looking straight into the abyss and standing at the edge, like a damn fool, who had been waiting for nonsense to make any sense at all.

The doctor sat silently in his thoughts, as he ordered his spirit to calm and he gives thanks to his saviour, Paul Cicero. If it were not for him, then none of this would have been possible? The old man gave him, the key to succeed at his plans.

* * *

Paul Cicero had great understanding that Dr. Jeremiah Arkham had the skills to get to the root of why. His little boy was so broken, his well-kept secret. The elderly man had the kind of dirty money to keep, his secrets safe and sound. But he had many enemies and there stood one above the rest, a dogmatist.

Who commanded a great horde and was someone, who could dash his son's progress. If he caught wind of it, for he was much a pawn, as the rest of them. This man was doomed to walk the land, never to die, till he found what he had lost.

After all, the moment he set his eye on the source of his power, a curse was upon him. Cicero didn't need the trouble; it was bad enough that he was very much blind and not too mention, long in the tooth. Even so, don't sell him short. He could fool the best of them by making them believe in a lie.

Paul Cicero's was something to behold, his show was a real treat and he really was something else. The way he held himself, it was as if, he had been at the end and at the beginning, much like Janus the God of Gates. Stuck looking at the past and the future.

The old man use to surrounded himself in a room of mirrors, where he'd spend his entire day. Just staring at his own reflection, one that he could never possibly see. Though he insisted that the truth was held in the mirrors and he would find it sooner or later, even if, it were to killed him one day.

He held the mirror in high regard, as he said. "A mirror is predictable for light reflects off the mirror; in an orderly fashion. But if, the mirror is casted in white. Then it could tell such tales with its silver tongue, as it is not perfect for it is green with envy and it reflects, a great sickness by scattering the light to the four directions."

"However, there is a mirror that could be a great gift and a great physician. Because this mirror holds the remedy of chaos, as a helper of the people, who are stuck and cannot see. There is more than one path to existence, its a long road too take, but it is worth it, the blood, sweat and tears."

"For the mirror sees; the backwards way, as it has a great ability to alter lives in just a chance encounter, by giving hope, understanding and a place to grow well."

* * *

Paul Cicero had a way with mirrors, like a magician and his cards. He could find a person's most beautiful lie, and so this is what he foretold. Instead of the truth, instead of the future. Because the truth doesn't sell tickets, fantasy does, so he said.

Jeremiah saw many discarded their dreams in the dark hall of bedlam, along with any future; for they do not wish to hear or face the truth. Because the truth hurts like, hell and they would rather abandon the truth for a well-crafted lie?

Paul cicero could tell all, who ever meet his glaze, all they had wised to hear and they in turned followed him. If they so dared, they would enter into his element, and he would quote, George Berkeley. "Truth is a cry of all, but the game of few."

Not many were foolish enough, to fall for his con, but there were a handful that would enter and so the game would begin. Only seven could enter at one time and everyone would leave happily or in a terrible fright, but not before leaving a healthy amount of cash.

Emerging out of the show, you'd laugh at the top of your lungs or you'll run to the hills screaming your head off with such joy and despair in your heart. You'll in turn tell every soul about your encounter with the Blind Fortuneteller of Haly's Circus. Some would heed your warning call, yet others would be drawn in.

Paul Cicero was great for business and it was silly that a circus show could scare the living daylights out of people so much. It was all in good fun, but there were some, who took it too heart and many lost their heads to him.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham had first hear of him through patients, who called, The Great Paul Cicero by another name, Erebus. What they had said would leaving an impression regardless and he recalls every word they had spoken of the old man.

"His truly a mythical creature and in his presence, you'd lose your grip on reality. As your heart pounds blood into your ears and the sound becomes, too much too handle and you'll happily embrace death like a lost love."

"Just too make the noise stop and to relief the pressure in your head, Because you'd think that he was the devil?"

* * *

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham recalls that faithful day, like it was just yesterday. When he meet the feeble looking Paul Cicero and his pitiful son. Never had he seen such a broken mind in such a small frame before. The destitution that was known as Jerome Valeska, a true calamity and a force of nature.

He theorized that any mind could be guided back to sanity. He just needed to do the impossible. However it would not last, as Jerome relapsed, life was just too much for the poor lad. In spite of that, he kept his eyes on the prize and soon he'd own his just reward, Arkham Asylum.

Sure he had his fair share of ups and downs, but if, it were not for Martha Wayne trying to claim Arkham Asylum, like it was hers to have. Then maybe The organization, The Court of Owls would not have wanted Arkham Asylum. So damn much and just maybe, he would have his birthright within his grasp.

Maybe the Wayne's would still have their lives, but it all went straight too hell and the Court of Owls murdered them. Along with his dream and so he had to buy his time, till the Court of Owls were no longer. A lucky break was needed for his dream to live again and reach the light of day.

Arkham know, the kind of people that made Gotham, their home and when there is power to be had, then someone would rise to claim it. Now monsters are on the run and in fear of a demon, which lives and rules from the shadows, now he must wait again to take back what is rightfully his!

Through all of this chaos that Gotham has endured, he still thinks his best chances are with Jerome Valeska. If he can just find, where Paul Cicero kept all his treasures in this god-forsaken land.

Then maybe, he could take it all? By taking the ashes of the fallen and rebuild Gotham, as he saw fit. Then he would have, what he have always longed for, yo restore his family's name.

To have a true Arkham at the heart of it all, as it should be and then he could be The King of Gotham, not anyone else. He just need to play it wise. He had part of the key he was certain of it.

The broken boy, who was trapped in a delusion so grand, you'd piss yourself laughing, at it all.

* * *

As a small and very weak child, Jerome Valeska spoke of many stories, fables and fairytales. So ridiculous and some of them came true, to a very small degree, a coincidence, I would say and to this very day, he still speaks of theses fairytales.

He would start them off by saying he was the Son of a Goddess, or that he would one day become the God of Warriors, and he'd have many followers, and these warriors, would show no fear but laugh instead in the face of death.

Other times he told a story of his father, that he was really a God of Sacrifice. Who could see in the hearts of all, who had ever faced him and he'd tell them. What he had seen in the darkness, for the future lays there, but you had to give up something, most precious and before you knew it.

He was reaching for your beating heart and once he held it above your head. You'll be in shock that you had lived for so long without a heart and you'll realize that, your heart was always dark, in contrast to the fire.

This was the only way for your cold heart to be saved was to be in the flames. Then he'd take his blade and cut off your head and cast the rest down into the dark abyss his realm and there you'd remain.

This was after all a game for the enteral flame, this fire that holds your heart, will always be there and is your only way out of the darkness, his realm and element. Yet no one dares touch such flame, for it consumes all.

They just wanted, what is corrupt, what is a lie and so this God of Sacrifice would take your head and make a game out of it, till he told all the gold. This was, what awaits you, if you entered into his house.

Never would you find a way out of the underworld, only death awaits, with an everlasting sleep and you'd dream of madness. Never would you find love but instead hate and the great void, with its chilling effect.

Other times Jerome told a fable about, how the sun had gotten lost and plunged the world into everlasting darkness. All the creatures feared that they would never see the light, ever again.

The eagle told the bear to start a search party, gather the birds and they shall look everywhere they could think of. From the forest, to the lakes and even in the caves for the missing sun but they just could not find him and they lost all hope, except one small woodland creature, the brown squirrel.

He knew in his heart, where to go looking for the missing sun and he found him stuck in a tree and his light was pale and very weak. The Sun was so glad to see the small creature and asked him. "Brother help, me!"

The small creature did but every-time the small creature, broke a branch and brought the sun closer too his freedom. The sun would burn brighter and the small creature, suffered greatly for the sun's freedom and save return. All because this poor creature didn't want anyone to think they had been abandoned, so he said.

These were the kind of stories that Jerome like to spin and he loves changing them at a whim. Just as much as he loves playing, his games and tricks on everyone that crossed his path. He is truly wicked but there have been times, when he simply seemed to be another person, who was the opposite in every way?

* * *

Now that the Court of Owls existence is up in the air and deemed, a hoax. All the blame had fallen to Wayne Enterprises and its mismanagement over the years. I could not have ask for a better out come then that. Especially now, that I have the clone of Bruce Wayne.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham knew Jerome Valeska, very will just like the sunrise. He knew just how much Jerome hated his name, but loved the name Comdhan. Because it reminded him of the word, comedian.

Because his mother had only ever called him that, but that was not true. Lila Valeaka only ever forgotten about him and never did, she ever call him by Comdhan? It was all a fever dream and a flat out lie.

At first the doctor got nowhere, fast and so he decided, it was wise to best play along, but his curiosity got the best of him. He knew that the child wanted, him to find the meaning to this name, Comdhan and he did. It's an Irish name that meant twin.

Whatever this truly meant, it was not like he had a twin? Maybe it was another personality that was hidden deep in his backwards mind? He had enough of his games, they had worn thin and old, yet it all felt wrong.

The doctor had played, the boy's foolish little games, but this behaviour had to be extinguished. Before the flames raged to epic proportions and the boy's mind was lost for good?

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham pushed, Jerome further into treatment. When he was done the boy came to call Lila, his mother even if. She did not act as such, and the bonus was he accepted his name, Jerome Valeska?

* * *

Many years had past since Jerome had last stepped foot on these grounds, only to be brought back, after killing his mother. Then after his brush with death, at the hands of Azrael, the angel of death.

During that time Jerome has killed many including his father, Paul Cicero. Who was a true con artist, who made the world think that he could see the future for being so blind, yet he was Dr. Jeremiah Arkham's benefactor.

Paul Cicero did so much for the good doctor, went above and beyond for him. But there was a cost, a great cost. Because Jeremiah was stuck watching a game that only the Blind Fortuneteller knew. Jeremiah was on his, own. He hated and loved Jerome for i, but the goal remains the same.

Yet he felt, he failed time after time, but it all worked out in his favour, either way? He got to a happy place of comfort, a position that placed him closer too his prize. Now he wants even more, now that Jerome had gone home. His performance had left Gotham in stitches and slow decay.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham's secret weapon of mass destruction was hidden and he could dream. Once more of ruling Gotham like, he had dreamt of long ago. The wild card was once again in his hands and he could win everything, he had wished for and now he had two, wilds with Five being the other?

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham knew that Jerome could push Bruce Wayne into more hardship, as his company struggle too keep Gotham afloat, as no one dares come here. In fear of this awful illness, of the mind and the body that is feared to be in the water supply now.

Five's existence is a P.R nightmare that Bruce Wayne can't have on his plate, right now. The doctor couldn't have dreamt this, even if he could; he found himself in a position of great opportunity and he couldn't just say no too it.

Bruce Wayne and his predicament, it was too good to be true, but here it was. Now, Bruce Wayne had to paid him, to keep his mouth shut or he'd disappoint the city and this lose themselves to the devastation.

Because Bruce's clone should not be alive, yet here he is, in the flesh and blood. Five's timing was perfect. Now, the doctor has to work on his poker face. Because he can't keep a straight face, as he sees this situation, as some kind of a revenge on Martha Wayne, for her meddling.

Yet at the back of Jeremiah's mind, he could feel an otherworldly presence that sent chills, along his neck and he couldn't shake the feeling. But his was so close to his dream, he couldn't stop now?

* * *

Jerome's last outing was a horror show, he helped plunge Gotham into chaos by playing the crime bosses to his advantage like, a snot nose kid playing chess by himself. Longing to take centre stage and be crowned but he couldn't. He was up staged by the others and his freak out, lead him back to Arkham Asylum.

The only refuge, this god-forsaken city has left and it's only for the criminally insane. People try to gain access but it takes money or a special kind of crazy to end up here but many do try, even with all that had happened.

* * *

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham had not cured Jerome's young mind. He just observed, the broken boy, who picked himself up, time after time. Till he no longer could, at one time he really was a sweet kid, but that didn't last.

Then the Wayne's murder happened and it was the catalyst that brought about Jerome's madness to a fury, so violent and it never stopped, it only gotten worse over time and he never could figure out why or maybe he did't care so much?

All he knew was that Jerome Valeska is a fanciful, crafty liar that should not be trusted, so easily. Because he is ultimately insane and all he ever wanted in life was to have a playmate, always had.

Then he found that within Bruce Wayne and he became an obsession of Jerome's twisted mind and in some lighting; you could say that Bruce Wayne was an inspiration to him. Thought he'd never say such a thing out loud.

Jealously would not let him, yet Jerome sees Bruce as mud, someone to push around and shape. He had longed for someone to play with him, in the mud and Bruce Wayne came along in the end.

* * *

Now, all the doctor knew was that Bruce Wayne has been a thorn in his side, as he could not erase him from Jerome's mind and this whole situation, has become very cumbersome to say the least and he wondered.

If Jerome knew that Bruce Wayne was really Five, who had been hidden away here by Bruce Wayne, himself. But this confirmed his hunch and Dr. Jeremiah Arkham sat in a quiet rage, as he thought too himself.

"I've fallen into one of Jerome's games; I've been played a fool, yet again? I should have known, by the way Jerome acted; this is indeed, the real Bruce Wayne and not the clone Five. Though in the back of his mind, he though that Jerome might have known Five from Dr. Hugo Strange's experiments.

Jeremiah was so livid that he could not figure this out sooner. Jerome had to spell it out for him and he spent months, no years it seemed? Trying to figure it out. When is was so clear, but Bruce Wayne's fortune blinded him with greed. He couldn't believe that he let it happen.

Because his work was too important to him but his luck was wearing thin, as it's been hell keeping Five hidden. As he was searching for answers as to was Dr. Hugo strange was up too. It couldn't just be that they wanted Wayne Enterprise, it had to be more the that?

* * *

Knowing this truth, this deadly knowledge that Bruce Wayne is here and Five is masquerading as Bruce Wayne. Was a most welcoming feeling? Yet in the back of his mind there is a screech of a dying animal that needs to shut up, but it was a warning too say the lest.

Something was missing to this puzzle and he could feel it in his bones like the illness that eats at Gotham. Jeremiah asked himself. "Why these two? I do not understand Cicero! What, did you mean?

Why, did I have to watch Jerome carefully and how was this related? Jerome just wants too kill Bruce Wayne and I'd gladly let him but this is an opportunity that I can't let slip away into the river of time."

I've seen your twisted son for most of his young life with the hopes that I could better him. But the truth was I could never cure him; I just make him more insane, just to have some of your fortune, to be a man of means and influence.

Cicero, you saw right through me. Cicero, you really could see a person's most beautiful lie. You knew, that I'd follow, because I didn't care, where you were going for you, let me walk with you, at the cost.

It was better then this hell? I was so glad that I found you. Because in the end of the day, you give me the means to achieve something more, something to be feared. What did you see besides my lies?

After all this time, what did it mean, that chance encounter? It haunts me and I feared it, not knowing why. Yet I still trust you, Paul Cicero and why is that?

* * *

Thought, I offered you a small token, to see my future. Out of boredom and then, you promised that I would be entertained for a price. I know, now for sure that you had a plan for me, what that is, I do not know but you saw my evil deeds.

I was greedy and wanted your riches. You knew this and still you didn't kill me on the spot. You had bigger plans that reached beyond what I thought. I was the blind one; all I wanted was to restore my family's name and you played me? Yet I can't hate you?

So care free that I'd do anything to have, what I wanted. I was doomed from the start, wasn't I? I wanted this and I should be glad. I need not fear but rejoice, I've waited so very long and the admission had been paid?

* * *

Now that I have Bruce Wayne, who had fallen victim to another tormented soul, Jonathan Crane or what he calls himself these days, the Scarecrow. Bruce had been doomed long before Jonathan.

Rumours tells another story that he had been the talk of the town or more like the laughing stock of the envious populaces as his been reckless, splashy and foolish. Discovering what his wealth could buy.

A whole lot of trouble, like making himself, a real heart breaker. Who was on the verge of being a world-class playboy, but who could blame him? He has all the money and power, you'd ever dream of, or want too have with no restriction. Except maybe for that butler of his, Alfred Pennyworth and it all became devastating real fast.

Gotham had seemed to gravitate to Bruce Wayne, they loved him, so it seemed. Until Bruce Wayne was marched to the flames of his distraction in the form of Valour, a drug that he was exposed to.

This drug that also went by the name grit in the clubs, he bought and drifted in and out of. Which made Wayne Enterprises easy pickings and set a target on his back, for him to have a great big fall.

What this drug did, too so many was the stuff of nightmares, conjured up by none other than, the Scarecrow. Yet I would argue that Jonathan Crane was just as much a victim as Bruce Wayne was. Because the fear toxin messed and twisted their minds along with everyone it came into contact with.

All seemed so cursed, but there was hope, as Wayne Enterprises developed a new antidote to fight this new form of the fear toxin but Valour became a worse fate. Valour was a deadly cocktail to all but Five or I should say, Bruce Wayne.

Why, Valour didn't destroy him completely, is still a small wonder. I would say that it was Ra's al Ghul's doing, it was all his doing. Now, Bruce lays in a coma, and at any moment he could become brain dead and die?

* * *

Most of the people wondered why, Arkham patients didn't suffer from the fear toxin and the theories ran muck. As more of the people spoke to each other, more and more began to say. "Madness will save us!"

Madness is a kind of salvation, as is could break the spell of this fear toxin and so, no one dare comes to Gotham, instead they beware it, for death and madness is ripe in the air and seeps into the water.

* * *

The gang wars had heating up once again, after the last Arkham break out and the chaos that followed. Something is most likely, brewing that I'm sure of. It's too obvious.

The Demon's Head, has his environment and is living well hidden in shadows, as are his many acolytes. Yet many speak out against him, like the misfits that lurk about and cause much annoyance to him that he could simply brush a side, like dust on a clock.

One such fool that dared too be a misfit was Captain James Gordon and he had been. Hot on the heels of The Demon's Head that pulls the strings of the meek and promises them that he'll eliminate Gotham by giving her a slow and painful dead. A mercy in his eyes but what a lie that is, when Gotham is beyond repair, and has alway been, dead.

Now James Gordon is being stretched too thin, all the while trying to keep Gotham together, like he could? She bleeds out and still he tries to comfort her, in her last moments as death closes in.

As he still cares for her and he can't let her go, so he tells her a lie and says that help in on its way, yet he can't do anything but lie. The weight of it all is getting too him and his in over his head and is drowning in the deep.

Even so, he is not the only one, everyone is and still somehow Gotham stays afloat. Yet in the back of his mind, lost in thought about his shortcomings. He goes out of his way to see the young man, now that it is too late.

I do think he is aware this is Bruce Wayne, but I need to test him, to know for such. Either way. I do think that Gordon sees the young man as his last source of hope. In Bruce's blood, there is the key too Gotham's survival, his the cure.

Because it seems that the Court of Owls was be-hide it somehow, I would put my money on it, for sure. But how was that possible, it's just as impossible as Ra's al Ghul being alive.

I can see the look in Gordon's eyes. The lost, but he forges ahead anyways, hopping against hope for someone to offer a helping hand, while they drown in the bodies of the dead.

* * *

Ra's al Ghul is indeed someone to be admired and feared. Paul Cicero, you were right about a demon coming to Gotham and bring the end of days with him.

* * *

If it were not for Valour being in Bruce's system during the Scarecrow's attack. Then Bruce Wayne would not have survived the cleansing but he was condemned anyways, because valour is both a blessing and a curse and taking Valour, be it accidental or of his own choosing. It changed him and he became a dagger for Ra's al Ghul.

A living weapon, whose soul purpose was to bring order to Gotham, so that Ra's al Ghul could save the masses and then the world. The people would chanted his name and all would be right in the world.

Yet it was not so and Ra's al Ghul hide deep within Gotham, as it was made to his liking and he still has power to push his will on everyone including Bruce, if he so chooses.

He just lets, the people think there is hope just to take it all way and it's only a matter of time before, he comes for his dagger. Ra's al Ghul's hold on Bruce is much like Jerome's obsession with Bruce, its immortal for there is no escaping your shadow.

It must have been hard on the people, who truly cared for Bruce Wayne to let him go, to such a place. After all, Arkham houses the most dangerous minds and one's imagination can run wild at the possibilities.

If I were to take a guess, I would say that Alfred Pennyworth was the so-called, brain and he has James Gordon on speed dial, for he worries so much about his boy.

* * *

I was so obtuse but its becoming clear, Gordon comes here, too make sure all is sound. Easy everyone nerves and he disguises it as work. Because it's his duty to make sure that Gotham will survive, and that includes the young man.

"Five" the only person to survive, the deadly fear toxin and the deleterious drug Valour. Stay hidden as his the last hope against the lethal brew that Ra's al Ghul keeps and uses on the locals, at his whim. He sits so high and mighty like his a king or a God.

During the cleaning of his dagger, he tested the young man by turning him into a zombie-like creature. Devoid of all love, but that was not true and he realized it. The moment the young man put an end to his madness and he took his own life. Yet his will did not give up on him, though he could breath on his own, he still suffers.

Now he sleeps blissful unaware of the muddle state that Gotham was in and I imagine he dreams of happier times, why would he not?

* * *

I get paid to keep my mouth shut, always had and I don't see it ending, even after all the mess. So my lips are seal about Five, but its really a beautiful lie. Five is the caring creature, which needs Bruce Wayne to sleep well and get better, as Five must feel some kind of responsibility, like he sees Bruce as family.

Alfred Pennyworth thinks he could pull the wool over me. What nonsense, after all, I meet Deep Darkness, shadow and knew him will enough. Poor Alfred, thinks he can keep Bruce save by hiding him here.

Under Ra's al Ghul's nose but it is not him, who holds Bruce's live in his hands, it is I. Dr. Jeremiah Arkham that rules these grounds of Arkham, the heart of the underworld and soon Gotham will be mine.

* * *

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham peered into his monitor with much relief, as he watched the orderlies drag Jerome out of Bruce's unit. He has to keep his wild cards, safe and sound for he was playing against the devil.


	3. Dead to the World

In the aftermath Arkham Asylum stood like, a fortress. The isolated and supernatural atmosphere set the mood, as everyone looked towards it with such expectations. As if, it could bring them deliverance, a terrible lie.

It was the only place that was well guarded from the ruin, outside it's gates. The madness, sickness and decay left many without hope. Gotham suffered a great cataclysm and was blocked from society and civilization, like a black sheep.

It had been weeks and the food supply was running scarce. The water supply was another story. Undrinkable, lanced with numerous bio-hazards, from the fear toxin to the drug, grit or as it was called on the streets, Valour.

The water were polluted and many feared the water, but it was Valour that did the most damaged. Many thought the drug to be a miracle, but it was indeed a corruption. One that was made by The Demon's Head and it was the missing piece, a Bio-weapon.

The water's of Gotham had a whole slew of other harmful agents, such as the Tetch-virus and something that acts like, Viper. But without the intense calcium deficiency, along with trace amounts of the Lazarus pit.

Put all these variables together and you have madness and death. In the form of zombie-like creatures that ran wild, like a forest fire. Causing a terrifying tale to unfold, as if, it was a cruel reality on top of a bad joke that no one wanted to be apart of.

Gotham was fearful too drink, many looked to the sky for rain, but were left too the chaos instead. The cruel creatures of death and madness made Gotham a living hell and it didn't help matters that it hadn't rained in what felt like, weeks or maybe months? But there was a small ray of hope from Wayne Enterprise's research labs.

The labs had found a way to make the water safe, but it's like playing Russian roulette. Some days are good and others, not so much. The bad days brought out the worst in people, it doesn't discriminate, like children in a candy store.

The Wayne labs found out that the drug, Valour bonded with the other substances, to then mutate into a virus that would wrecked the body. Except for the daggers, as these poor soul were put throw the wash cycle.

They were conditioned and fixed to spread the virus like, a brush fire. Gotham was at the mercy of Ra's al Ghul and his plans. Life got incredibly difficult, as time went on. Hours felt like, days. A day felt like, years and a month felt like, decades.

What Alfred and Lucius told me was sheer mania; I could only imagine, what everyone is going through on the other side. The moment that I hear their determine tone, I remember the bond that we shared and forge together.

There was no time to waste, Gotham was worth saving and without them and their voice of reason. I don't think that I would have make an effort too survive or care, but I kept my dark thoughts at bay.

The exhaustion was so unbearable, but everyone was going throw it and I had to remind myself of that fact. I felt selfish to think that it was just me, went everyone was up against the rocks.

The crushing death waves of madness and slow decay that put Gotham on death's footsteps. Was a reminder that life was gift, a gift the everyone took for granted. Because just like that all of it could be gone.

Normal would be abnormal and light would turn dark, even so we have to try. I have to try, I have to care and forge ahead. Because everyone is needed to face this crisis, to put our lives on the line for the one that waits for this storm to pass.

We all try and try hard, I see my officers beside me, each day and night. We live this nightmare together, so that we may see the light again. I felt helpless and so do they and many have lost their will to live.

Even so, we miss them and hold them in our hearts, as we still must stand in this pain and suffering. So that others may have the will to live and keep their love ones save and sound.

I know others do the same, not just us on the frostlines. All this chaos, brought hell and the Devil, who emerged from such inferno, thus madness, this illness laid waste to this land and it's people.

All because this was some twisted test, initiation and ritual that Ra's al Ghul set into motion. All for a successor, a means to prolong the title of Ra's al Ghul, so it may live on in preeminence.

Ra's al Ghul lives and breathes in the shadows and takes all the radiance for himself. While leaving us in ever-lasting torment. This darkness is a heavy burden, but not to the devil, he breathes it in and it gives him, vitality and depth.

Yet I see it, this darkness is but a hollow shell, empty and soulless. There is no end insight, no waking up from all this bloodshed and trauma. Gotham is at death's door, its only a matter of time, till the line has been crossed and the game has come to an end.

Watching this madness and ungodliness unfold that pulverized the land and it's people. I thought that I was strong and I thought we had a fighting chance. But I was so very wrong, there is no justice, no vengeance only this darkness.

Once more I fight the awful thoughts that don't leave me. This is the worst part of it all, the enemy within. I can't begin to tell what awaits, everyday that we must drink and so the fear sets in and you ask yourself. "Will this be the day that I'm tempted too madness? Will I become infected for being so close to patient zone?"

It's been so difficult, telling your fellow officers, your brothers and sisters, to drink something that could take them to madness. But if, they don't drink, then death takes them anyways.

We are just a system falling, one by one. Made to watch or shut our eyes to the horror and pretend nothing is wrong. When everything is wrong and the world is up-side down and there is nothing to look forward too.

Because you can't help them or yourself, for we are all next in line, frail and doom to die. Because of a system of corruption that was built on lies. The powers that be, sure as hell don't care about lives, Gotham is proof of that.

Yet somehow we were still here, even after all that had happened. We're still alive, still breathing and still hoping against hope that a true miracle will occur, thought it seems mad.

The moment the elected officials and the elite; choose to watch the bridges burn down, all seemed so lost. As if, the whole world was lost and doom? It was so crushing, when Alfred told me that all this was apart of a grander design and The Joker was just a pawn like, everyone in Gotham.

Used and abused like, the world was a slave to the dragon that hoards all the gold in the world. Ra's al Ghul was a man who waged many wars and collect such riches and still it was not enough for him.

The elites of society made their way to Arkham Asylum. These fools thought that they were the choose ones to make all things new again. They watched it all fall down and they made the G.C.P.D guard them at all cost.

We working folk, were nothing but hostages waiting for deliverance that never truly arrived. It was more of the same, bullets, whispers of madness and death. What a mess everything became.

Gotham was abandoned, too broken to fix. Because we were always damaged goods it their eye and they couldn't sell damaged goods. So us; the small people are the one's that are true suffering.

Truly forsaken by the so-called elite, the top tier. Too selfish too care and so they cut themselves off; it's only a matter of time till it all caves into the ground below. Many have lost their lives trying to reach this isolation that they have deemed, salvation.

It's been an eternal damnation and I feel like, a ghost that is stuck on a frequency of white noise, that threatens me with psychosis and it only getting worse with time. Arkham Asylum is not salvation, only the dead make the journey and we, the police force, have now become gravediggers.

Yet there have been a small hand full, who do make it across and they are the ones, who choose to make a pilgrimage for their, so called god. They see this god in Jerome Valeska.

These lackeys speak of this whole mess, like it's a blissing in disguise and this death and madness was not for nothing. They said with uncanny.

"Everyone will be over the moon, when the obsidian mirror is put into place at the heart of the house. Jerome Valeska is but the reflection on the obsidian mirror, his the glaring sun and we are just mere witnesses to analogy."

They made Jerome Valeska into a knight in shining armour, after all he did. They have the nerve to call him their saviour, for he called forth sanctuary with divine madness and they do not speak his name, for it's too scared and is dead to the world. Only his calling card remains.

Jerome Valeska is not dead, his alive and well. Locked up good, deep within Arkham they say. I couldn't agree more and this is where he belongs. There is an disturbing feeling just thinking about the poor man.

I've wondered why he was so disturbed and to knew that his life was truly chaotic and sad. Live seems so evil at times, what a person is able to do, no horror film could do it justice.

Suddenly a worried expression placed a pond James Gordon's face, and he focus himself. He remembers the night he brought Bruce Wayne to Arkham and how he'd be held here that many would have feared to set foot in, but now many foolish people dream of getting too and most die on their journey.

The world has become upside down and I can't recognize it's. I've given up, yet I know, I can't not. Especially with so many looking for away out of this darkness. I can't be a liar.

I told Bruce Wayne that there will be light and I must hold on to that. The child is our last hope, he has to be. After all, Ra's al Ghul sees him as an heir and a means to life forever.

I plan on knowing why that is, Why Bruce Wayne is connected to all this madness and death. Why Bruce's world is so filled with darkness and sorrow that seems to never end? I was with him at the end and I saw him off to a new beginning. I had faith that Bruce Wayne could indeed find the light that I spoke of and we'd all see the storm pass.

Where did it all go wrong?


	4. Hush,now

The world has become a stranger, so cold and distant, yet still there is much danger. All seems so forgotten, so haunting that one loses the sense of time. Yet there is apart that still screams, don't give up on the search, trust can return; only went there is forgiveness.

The storm, the lies takes a toll and it cost everyone their freedom. Even so there is still hope, though you cannot see it, its there. It's so hard to believe that, but we must for Gotham's sake.

We can't lose focus, we must stay, as if, we stand in isolation like a tree to weather the storm. We must forget that we are a forest and we are not alone; our roots connect each other, throw difficult times.

It's hard to see or feel that sense of hope, when we all have lost so much. The terrible thoughts that lurk in my mind and tells me a wicked story that we had faced the worst, but in reality I was so very wrong.

A greater hardship was just around the corn and as soon, as I realized it; it would be far too late. Cerberus, The Three Headed Hound of the Underworld had come to Gotham and made it, his home.

Who am I kidding, they were here all along. I should have, I could have and I would have, but I underestimated fear, madness and chaos. The damage caused was so great; it was endless.

Yet some way, some how, they ended up back where they belonged, yet again. But the truth was that they were just the opening act to what was to come and what emerged was more ruthless.

It seemed that everyone in Gotham were just seen as puppets, the good, the bad and the ugly. It didn't matter in their eyes, we were all to be used and thrown to the waste side.

We were but a means of wealth to them and we worked hard for them, the heartless. Gotham is hell on earth and yet we still live. Because we still have connections, we still have people who need us.

* * *

All this was just a sick twisted game, a test and for what? To forge a dagger that would bring ever-lasting darkness, by taking the heart and reshaping it. To achieve this Ra's al Ghul stained the hands of innocence with the blood of the bitter and the cherished.

This poor soul, who was marked by the Devil himself, became his dark knight; a weapon that was neither died or living, but a zombie-like creature. The Devil called his dagger, his hunter that spreads his leathery wings to casts a great shadow, making a path for him to walk the earth, once more.

Ra's al Ghul commanded his hunter to kill and sink his talons into the heart of Gotham. Once he lost his heart, Ra's knew he'd have true authority, yet he was not satisfied with the one he had.

Ra's al Ghul then asked of his hunter." Dagger of mine bring death to them all, cut their bonds, cut their will and bring me their heads. Who ever wishes to step out of the shadows, there is no light for this is my kingdom, now and forever!"

Ra's al Ghul would rule happily, knowing that the match was strike and the game ends in flames. His realm and kingdom would make Gotham its new home and there would be no light here, no heroes and no knights, only what he saw fit.

We were a small handful that were willing to face, his dagger. Our dearest friend, the lost and lonely soul that we had found by chance. The night his whole world came crushing down, we were there to pick the pieces of his heart.

Ra's al Ghul was most pleased that the moon had appeared. It was as if, Ra's knew how much she meant to Bruce. She only wished to dash his plans for she said that she had seen it with her eyes.

The darkness that took ahold of all the realms, but she was no match. Ra's al Ghul aimed his dagger and he watched the Moon fall from the sky and come crushing down. There would never be a light in the nighttime sky, ever.

She had held her ground unafraid, she only wanted to save Bruce Wayne, her sleeping Endymion. When Bruce came to, he was so overwhelmed, he saw no way, but to take his life yet he could not, the poisons still coursed in his veins.

He had injuries so great that it could be possible for him to die eventually? The virus, the poison would make sure of that, but it was stranger still that he could hardly take a breath. It's seemed that he was battling an unseen enemy.

For he was the cause and the cure. He was to damaged and covered in blood, just thinking about it sicken Gordon. Ra's al Ghul could tell that Bruce was at the root of this mess. a mess Ra's started all and he told him.

"You killed, yet again and this time it's your fairest moon, your light that tried to guide you home. Now she is dead, lost to you and when the time comes, I will be back to claim you, my dagger, of the night, so sleep and struggle for breath, till then my dark knight."

Ra's al Ghul held Bruce's mind and he had made him a demon, a statue that was frozen in time. Ra's than grabbed Selina's body and looked at her like, a father, she never had and he then said to her lifeless corpse.

"Selina, you were so fearless for a cat, but you are no guardian of the home. They didn't deserve you and the underworld has no use for your eyes that can guide a lost soul, out of this dark realm of mine. Hush, now and be gone, sweet Selina Kyle, never to return."

Ra's al Ghul was in a weaken state, I could tell that he wished to fight another day and he took Selina. Alfred Pennyworth and I were mere witness to this heartbreak and all seemed so very lost.

When Five stepped out of the shadows and said. "I just wanted to help them, but I fear that I'm too late." He told us that he was apart of Selina's plan and it was her, who brought him back, how he could not explain.

Because she knew Bruce would need someone to watch over him, while he rested. We were still needed as symbols of hope. Bruce needed help, Gotham needed help and we were able to help.

Five said that he could not explain, only that he had not long to live. Five didn't want to be alone, he wished to see Bruce Wayne, one last time before he was gone. So out plan was for five to take Bruce's place.

I went to place Bruce Wayne in Arkham Asylum, thinking it was the best hiding place, in plain view. How things went for the worst to beyond that, all in a matter of, what felt like a heart beat, but the foolish and heartless turned everything upside down.

Nothing went right and it was un up hill battle. The elite and their fears, thinking they could ride out the storm in of all places, Arkham Asylum, like they could be save and sound far from the madness that was Gotham. The irony.

What Selina said to us before she set everything into motion? I would never forget, as I thought she wouldn't die, I thought we could help her and made sure that she would have all her life ahead of her. How we were wrong, just too weak for the job and her words still haunts me so.

"Have faith and trust, a cat is hard to kill and I can see in the darkness and there is light and it calling him. Just watch over him for me, will you? His my one and only, my heart and home. In time you will see, hope take again to the sky. After all, you're the ones that give him hope, we all did."

* * *

James felt disappointed in himself, for he could not see, just how shattered Bruce Wayne had become, till it was far too late in the game. Because the young man never let on that he was suffering, he just endured.

James had saw the pain, when the young boy, set out to strike down Matches Malone for murdering his beloved parents. So many tragedies have fallen onto this broken young man's shoulders, since they met that night, went his world came down around him.

James could't take it, the tragedy that still is unfolding before his eyes, so many in these dark days. If it were not for these dark times, maybe he would have seen, what was truly going on. Then maybe he have understood.

Because Bruce; was hopelessly lost and overwhelmed by it all and he took matters into his own hands. It all started that night and Bruce Wayne disappeared in a tail spin of misery, yet he emerged, time after time.

To take on, yet another task, till it took a toll and he went down a dark path and he melted away. Only to resurface in one of the many clubs that Gotham had to off the Juvenile, he had a collection.

Bruce simply had too much, at his disposal and that lead him a stray. Bruce made such a big splash, but he was lost in indulgence that was masking a great pain and he pushed everyone away and he fell into a abyss of darkness called, Grit.

A drug that made the user fearless, but this was a falsehood. The signs of Grit were the cold and indifference, the individual displayed as time went on. But the most petrifying notion was the debilitating aspect that the user became dependent, the more they used it.

The more intense the hallucinations became; eventually the user would die of heart failure, except for a few fortunate souls. When The Scarecrow attacked, he released his fear toxin. The horrifying hallucinations of the masses made the Tetch-virus look like, a cakewalk, which made The Mad Hatter's voice a simple cradlesong.

People had been running wild and dropping like files, it was sheer chaos, set into motion by Jerome Valeska and his master plan, such pandemonium. Then Valour came about, to counter the fear toxin, but it ended up being more destructive. Then a cure and it was all the doing of un unseen army at war with the crime boss for the control of Gotham's soul.

Gotham's misfortunes had made Bruce feel like, it was his entire fault. Because he inherited an empire that was ripe for the taking. Had I known, I could have helped him sooner than later, but I was just so entangled and I wear myself to shadow. Just as my officers were dealing with this war that was brewing under the surface.

I discovered a masked vigilant in the misty and everyone made it sound like this masked vigilant was the devil himself, come again to destroy Gotham, but who could blame them, or judge them for that matter. When fear literally blinds them, but there really is a demon at large.

* * *

Now Bruce Wayne is a patient in Arkham Asylum for his own well- being and protection and Five is on the other side trying to get help for Gotham. But it falls on deaf ears and blind eyes and nothing can reach us in this bleakness.

Bruce Wayne just had a bad night, one after another and what for? Because his the heir to Wayne Enterprises, the last Wayne and it seems that Ra's al Ghul has been watching him from a far, yet somehow had a front row seat.

Barbara told me of The demon's head. As Ra's al Ghul hides deep within, yet somehow in plain sight. As it was told to me by Alfred and he said that Ra's al Ghul, loved to pull the strings of all. Slowly, he would taking the spotlight for himself. We are all watching Gotham fall apart, like it was a staged show or else. Like Gotham would be fine, but she is not and never could she be.

Gotham had her heart ripped out and the Devil took it for himself and she died in our arms, we failed her, lost her love. Her little friends told us to have faith and trust and so we must for the ones, we love and the ones we lost.

* * *

James looks to the city and the skyline, as the sun sets and darkness at hand. In no time, the screams of agony will reach for the night, as it did that night that seems like, a lifetime ago.

It was time to head in as a shift change was due, James approached the entrance of the facility and was meant with a stern greeting from Bullock and he led Jim to the area that housed Five, of all places. Why?

It was well hidden deep within Arkham, only a hand full of people knew of Five's placement and only James knows that it was really Bruce Wayne. James felt dejected, as he realized there was a commotion coming from Bruce's unit.

Nurses and orderlies ran by; it was like everything had slowed down, like a tragedy was around the corner and there was no stopping it. James fought all logic; he just wanted the boy to be all right.

Because he was not ready to say good-bye, when they need him to be well. All James could do was hold on to hope that Bruce would pull through, his a survivor, he'd regain consciousness.

James stepped closer and his gut sank like, a shipwreck. The orderlies were dragging Jerome Valeska from Fives's Unit. All James could do was help reel in Jerome, he could not let on and he had to mask his feelings.

Surely Dr. Jeremiah Arkham was on to him. James thought no, his not and he moves forward. A nurse said. "How is the patient's, Glasgow readings? Another replied. "His vitals shows that his clearly in pain, his heart can't handle it and his crushing!"

In the dance to sub-due The Clown Prince of Crime, Jerome took Gordon's hand gun and then he took out his makeshift blade and he shouted. "Wait, what is going on, what is happening to him? Just kidding, I don't care or do I? Let me found out, move people, there's a mystery to be solved here, ha!"

Jerome points the gun, ready to shot, but his hand shakes and he brings his fist to his temple and he tights his grip on the blade and shouts, while pointing the gun at the unit that houses Five.

"Brother stop this, his a kill joy, Junior quit it, um don't like that name anymore, oops? What about Comdhan? No, okay fine, stick in the mud it is, Jeremiah. Stop this; you're getting on my nerves! Just fly away, brother like sleep, hush now and let me be. Hahaha, I won this game, your crazy like me and your stuck with me...ha!"

"You and your dreams, you got the cushy life and I was left too death and too rot in the mud like, some forgotten corpse. How dare you, Jeremiah. Always telling lies, said we were lost, or hostages? But the truth is, we did get the shit end of the stick, we are freaks, born losers but I will change all that just you watch."

"The family, you think we were apart of, were the biggest dweebs this city had ever had, who now needs to be forgotten like, a bad day and only moi will be remembered, not them, not you, never you, the black sheep, you fuckin storyteller."

"Your real family deserved to die and they had it coming and soon you'll drift back into the sky and you'll leave me be, to wonder about."

"The old man saw it and told me, death and madness was my legacy and you will not stop me, it's my calling. I'll take your heart pin of yours and toss it, into the flames and no one will come to save you brother!"

"You'll die alone and all shall welcome me for I'm the light at the end, death's warm smile. The Joker! I will take what is mine, your days are numbered!"

* * *

James sucker punched The Joker and he fell like dead weight and a calm voice spoke and said. "Thank God, we have you here Captain James Gordon, now bring him, it's time for his treatment." You could hear the sarcasm in the tune of voice, but James could careless at that moment.

James picked up The Joker and followed Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, whom was chuckling and said." The Joker is up to no good, I see and I failed him. Look what he brought forth, confusion. Ha, and he confuses me for a brother, it seems?"

James Gordon said. " You are aware it's true, right! That Jerome had a brother named Jeremiah."

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham then said." Yes, and I'm glad that you remember but The Joker is a crafty liar and there is a mystery here, like he said and Gotham holds many that fuels his delusions, like this Bruce Wayne look-like. Now do keep up Captain James Gordon, there is work to be done."


	5. All his nightmares had come true

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham led Captain James Gordon to an area of Arkham Asylum, that James had never seen before? Strange that after all this time, Arkham Asylum could still hold such mysteries, such hidden pathways, one could say that it was truly a labyrinth?

The most frightful of monsters; dwells behind their iron bars, the lost and wicked souls. They scream with such rage, upon the glance of Dr. Jeremiah Arkham and James could only imagine what, the man had done too them?

Their rage for the doctor had swiftly turned to a unholy laughter. As they caught a glimpse of The Joker within the arms of The Captain. In that moment, James felt at a loss, as their laughter quickly turned into a chant, as if, their chant were a warning too him?

"You'll never defeat the monster within? If you do, there is no escaping! Only a slow bitter death into a world of madness is all that awaits, at the mountain of such bitterness, such coldness, and isolation! Gone is the sun, never to return from the darkness within!"

Their haunting echoes filled the hallway as they reached for the men, who fades into the distance. It was an eerie, reminder that Arkham Asylum was a place of great fright. The thought made James's skin crawl with an blood-curdling sensation.

Which filled him with a sense of deep darkness and heartache that lingered in the stale air. James knew that he was most likely, walking into a trap that the doctor had set up for him?

But he had no choice, other than too follow the doctor? James struggled with The Joker's dead weight, as they made their way to a medical room. Everything felt so out of place and that said a great deal.

Standing before such a room, all hope in your soul would fade into the darkness and remain lost in the chaos of lies. The realization of such a horrible fate would kick in and you'd understand, where you stand in such a dark world.

James couldn't shake, the sickness that he felt in his soul, as Dr. Jeremiah Arkham opened the door. Within the room, all sorts of medical devices stood idle and could easily be ripped from the depths of your wildest nightmares, and still that would not do it justice.

This was surely damnation on earth? Such thoughts had brought an unimaginable frustration, not to mention the self-doubt within his head. One could feel that one's mind, could drifted away into any small wonder?

James was sure as day that he had found himself, lost in thought and not of sound mind? He couldn't believe that he hadn't dropped The Joker on his head, or fallen to his knees?

It had to be the adrenaline that gave him the strength, yet it didn't match his feelings, he did want the sinfulness of his mind to take control of him. The truth of the matter was that he was faced with reality. A reality that he couldn't look at and the situation was no better, and he was no better?

He felt like he was looking into a broken mirror of how he could have been. It seemed that he had gone insane, and the reality was gone. Yet he couldn't let go and forged ahead any ways.

James felt such brokenness, because of this careless though of mind, which cause him to believe that he had abandoned all hope and he could never find, such a light that could wait forever for you?

James blamed himself, and put himself in such a bad light, one that misleads all others? For he felt lost in the dark and he had no friend at his side, just this madness that he carries.

He felt grim, for his hatred grows and grows without an end in sight? He felt as if, he were in an loop and a cage indeed, it was unjust yet very fitting. The insanity of it all and knowing that fear devours.

trapping everyone in its jaws, locking them behind teeth that were disguised as doors of a corridor that never ends. Made this feeling of numbness take ahold and he was beginning to see the true horror of Arkham Asylum and the isolation that Gotham endures.

Such a place was the breath and fire of a dragon that dares to take all into the pit, leaving all the gold at its feet. James hated and he despises his thought, even more. Because he was no knight and could ever kill such a dragon?

Because he could never find the sword that could defeat such an evil? He could never find the cold wicked heart of the serpent and strike it? James couldn't do anything of the sort or escape this hell, this building?

All he could do was to loathe and who he loathed was The Joker, the young man, the cold-blooded killer that thrown Gotham into such darkness and set the city to flames? James knew that The Joker's madness could reach your worst nightmares and still that wasn't the end?

James's option of The Joker was that he could wait in silence for the perfect timing to rise from the flames and feed on the weak. When you had a bond, as if, the bond were your very heart.

This was the moment that he'd cut your bond, your heart and rip it for you. Never could you be the same for a cruel fate much like a storm. Leaving you in his madness that he crafted just for you, like it was welcoming gift.

A remainder of his handy work, the shattered mess that eats you inside, till you realize that you were no better than him? The Joker deserves, the worst kind of suffering for bring ruin and decay into Gotham.

So much death, so much madness, that the endless nightmare that worsens over time, like smoke. Exhausting and just when you thought, the war was over, it was only the beginning of a horrible abusive cycle?

The lies and the domino effect, a painful remainder that as soon as, one falls, there was another to take their place? Because in Gotham crime is always at all time high, as high as the metal and glass that dared too touch the night-sky?

The killing, the mayhem was no joke. Death was all around and there was no escaping this reality? There was nothing, other than to survive and most were cruel and down-right hatful, it was a mad world.

To live here was to lock your doors, for here and you'd know just, what a person was capable of and what they could do to another soul. Still, what came next was a nightmare beyond suffering and this hell was back breaking.

James questions everything, even the stories that he knew were true? Along with whatever was whispering in his mind. He felt, the wool over his eyes and there was no beauty in this dark world, not for anyone with a heart.

There was nothing for him, no home, no love or warmth waiting for him. Just the cold darkness and a promise to remain in such an abyss. In such a dark world, the elites only cared for what they created as their god, currency.

They cared not of the people, only what the people can offer, their lives and livelihood, blood and gold. James wondered who was at fault, for spinning the machine of lies and he recalls.

The Court of Owls that's who he remembered? Yet there was more to the story, in the shadows within a cave was a demon with its head, cut off that longs for a weapon to wage war against heaven?

To make a blackhole, a bottomless pit that collapses worlds upon worlds. Leaving them all abandoned and with only faith in nothing but the lies of such a demon. Who awaits the omega and the pale horsemen?

Yet that to seem way off the mark, so much uncertainty, so much that can sicken, the mind, body and soul and James didn't knew where the though came from? Yet all James could think of was that there was so many dark days and it would be easy to let go.

To fall and this was the world that sharpens into a point and drives a dagger in your heart and the devil within wins. Leaving you in a blackhole, a freak in a box with no choice, other than madness and death?

The journey into the house of cold, the house of the blind and the echo lost. The walls of blood that bleed and the dark mirror that traps you screaming into the night, the horrible night that turns good men, wicked.

On and on, as the slain and in an endless war of damnation. Where there is no one to feed you, there is no one to hear you passed your walls. Such sadness and such madness and such death. There is only, the day lost and the night ever suffering?

Where to begin? Where to the end? Just a lonely state of mind and James questions everything, even his own memories yet again? He needed answers, he needed a clue and they need a cure.

It would seem that justice was at the edge of a blade and there is no where to go but down? Carried such a weight of such a miserable soul, James wondered. What Dr. Jeremiah Arkham was up to, and why he needed him?

Never had anyone see the treatment that The Joker endures? James thought that he knew, but he questioned; himself even more? Because, what crossed his mind felt like, all kinds of wrong? A wrong that couldn't be measure for it's a brand, a brand that sticks?

There was a hint of pity in that thought and he knew that the Joker feed on the fear. The kind of fear that feasts on hearts of others, for the wicked creature was as cold as death itself.

A bastard capable of anything and everything and looking at him, you'd think that nothing was real, it was all a lie? Everything could be turned up-side-down, at a drop of a hat, and anything went with him.

James knew that The Joker's reality was our insanity, our nightmare and our suffering. What James could remember, didn't play out as he had thought? There were a two Jokers in a deck of cards, or was there three?

It didn't seem right to him like it was on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't recall? For this reason alone, he felt rather, sorry for such the vile soul, and he didn't know why? The Joker was worthless for he was the embodiment of true chaos. Yet James knew in his heart that there was more to his life's story, other than multiple choice?

James felt, the danger in the ether and the pain that gripped his soul, as he held onto The Joker, ever so closely. Nothing made sense? Just the coldness, the smell of death coming from the room.

Which made James feel just as he had the first time he saw the gates of Hell, the cool steal, the sheer thought of it all as he read the words, Arkham Asylum. A place that would haunt his mind, as long as, he was still among the living?

He wondered in such horrifying questions, as one rose above, all others. The Joker endures this all, all of them here had? What was this madness that made him question everything, even more and with such fright?

This place, felt like a terrible sickness, and he was trapped like nails of a coffin. So many over the course of time had been placed here. James knew that many of the crime family of Gotham wanted this place, of all places, but why?

James couldn't believe, what he was seeing? It was as if, he was looking at Indian Hill's operations, all over again? Yet it was not? It just couldn't be? Who would revive such an organization, as The Court of Owls? Who dared to rise the dead that were just fine pushing up daisies, slowly but surely.

James knew that he had shut them down, they did, didn't they? Yet he was facing the past and it looked as if, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham had a great knowledge of what, truly was wrong within Arkham Asylum, along with Gotham?

James could only guess, what the man was capable of, as he wondered still. How the hell, did Dr. Jeremiah Arkham stayed hidden and under the radar for so long? Why did everyone put all their hopes into him?

Who was he really? During James's time of digging, he found an old well and at the bottom there were bones and a burnt photo that read, "The Arkham Family." The only name that could be read was the name, Jeremiah Arkham.

James tried to find out, who they all were, but it was not easy, not in this hell? James unearthed a old tale that had The Arkham Family at the root of all misfortunes in Gotham, as if, they were the stuff of myth and legend?

The townsfolk had said of them. "Thy be pedigree that the founding families Gotham would treat as if, thy be the plague and the beasts of hell, come to drag you back too hell and there shall thee be, till judgement day." So the legend goes, but that depended on who, told the story.

There were so many secrets that were well hidden and Dr. Jeremiah Arkham seems to be one of them? He was a mystery that needed solving, just as much as the frightful madness.

What James could find was that Dr. Jeremiah Arkham lurked in the shadows and only came about after Gotham hit rock bottom. He promise to set Gotham free but that was clearly a fabrication.

The doctor was so confident, walking around these grounds that bearded his surname. The Arkham's were the stories of monsters and devils. James could see into the man's eyes and he saw a hatred that he couldn't understand yet?

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham stared back and he said with such certainty. "I do believe, this would be the first time that I've really gotten to speak to you. After all your time here, Captain James Gordon. It's an honour to finally show you these grounds that I hold dearly."

"Now, place Mr. Valeska here, tie him down with these and make sure that this is on his head, then we can begin." James knew that Dr. Jeremiah Arkham was concerning and lying to his face, he felt it to be so and now he'd get a first hand experience of his work?

To witness Dr. Jeremiah Arkham try and cure the most insane mind that Gotham had ever known? Dr. Jeremiah Arkham promised that hope would come to Gotham and he was that hope and he told us that he just need time.

James felt that he came for out of the blue and changed everything about Gotham. He just didn't know how, but it was sure crazy to think about. This doctor was no doctor, his was just a greed man, like everyone in Gotham.

The Doctor then said. "Within these walls are many, who have stories to tell, as they suffered at the hands of society and cast aside like unwanted goods."

James could agree that most of these wicked souls suffered at the labs of Indian Hill and James knew that within one of them is the cure to this madness. Jeremiah talked some more and said.

"They are much like slain children, a terrible action. Just think if, you had children. What would you do if, a madman like The Joker killed your beloved children. Would you kill him? knowing that you scared, one of your children and that they'd became a killer in the end?

" Hmm, never mind that thought, just finish already there is work to be done."

James remembered like, it was just yesterday. The awfulness that the Joker caused, the sickness, the pain and suffering and how this damn doctor promised the impossible. The illnesses needed to be studied, the virus, the poison and the drugs that set Gotham to ruin.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham seemed to believe and that it was rooted in the insanity and that maybe, within these walls was the cure? Times were hard and time, lost all its meaning, it worth like we had lost our ending, as if, it were that of a program?

Darkness, destruction and abandonment was very taxing, but that was just the tip of the iceberg? Gotham was in for a hell of a storm? A dark cloud hangs above our heads like, a guillotine. It's only a matter of time before it's truly over?

The storm, The pure madness and utter devastation. James recalled the victims of such sickness and they had terrible blood shot eyes, pale skin, they coughed up blood that stained their lips red, and their hair had turned to a greenish hue.

Their hallucinations were fuelled by fear and they fought anyone that came face to face, as dead was close in and they laughed and they laughed. Till they were ushered to the afterlife with a smile upon their face.

The Joker walked the land like, a cursed creature of the cold night. He exposed them to his madness set the sickness upon Gotham. Many had lost the battle with the illness, the madness.

Yet their were those who had survived, only to became a worst nightmare then him. What came next was a terrible hunger and what, they did was the stuff of horror and legend.

They were covered from head to toe in blood. Because such madness knew; no boundary and so, they killed and killed. As the hunger left them cold with uncontrollable laughter that left them dead on the streets.

Their rotten flesh, feed the cycle of death and these infected were monsters of a heartless sort. The worst of them all, were the one's that had the drug grit within their bloodstreams.

Which set them apart from the rest, changing their body chemistry all together, and their strength, there were no words to describe it. Yet when the drug valour came about and it a miracle, but it was a curse that changed them further, to be the undead? Yet that too would pass, as they too would known death.

As if, death was welcoming them home and they left, like all the others had, with a smile. It was chaotic, terrible and a cruel fate that they were dealt. Yet James couldn't recall what came next it was too disheartening.

Just as James recalled, the awful feeling in his gut. He knew that this moment ahead of him was going to be bad, so bad that he couldn't help but be mislead. Because this was a real grim situation, one that would scar him for the rest of his life and never heal?

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham was most certainly, on to him and he would test him with the aid of the insane criminal that he held on too. James had known that Dr. Jeremiah Arkham was always looking for clues, as to why, Five was so important to Bruce Wayne.

Beyond what, Alfred Pennyworth and the young master had told him. It was as if, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham was looking for some great truth, or some illustrious lie to use against them?

James feared that it had something to do with Dr. Jeremiah Arkham wanting more funding for his research. It seemed that the doctor was playing as all like, fools. Because he seemed too only care about money?

In a time, when money had no meaning, but to burn and keep the coldness at a distance, just as Gotham had been from the rest of the world, under lock and key. James had kept a close eye on the doctor.

Because their was too many questions, as Dr. Jeremiah Arkham said that his work would benefit Gotham in the long run. The Elites took it like bait, or a moth to the flame, as they heard all that they wanted to hear.

Like it was a lullaby to calm their souls. So that they could go back to counting their dollars, instead of counting the dead? Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, seems to be the one laughing all the way to the bank, if he ever could?

The Elites, didn't seem to care, as they all seemed to have failed this city, by abandoning them, at the waste side. Only to end up here, along side The Joker and his merry folk. Dr. Jeremiah Arkham had more interest in lining his pockets, than even the elites had and he seemed to hold the Joker close to his heart like, a trump card?

There was something, so corrupted that it was beyond, just money or power, it was something else much darker. It was Arkham Asylum that was important? to him, just as it was for everyone in the past and the question remains as it did, why?

Indian Hill, was a stepping off point, in the same sense that Dr. Hugo Strange had Pinewood farms. There was more to Dr. Jeremiah Arkham and it seemed that he was in control? James had no choice, then to do as the doctor had asked of him.

James didn't have a say in the matter. Because it was not his call to make, it was his. After all James's searching, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Dr. Jeremiah Arkham had a deep connect to Indian Hill, just as Dr. Hugo Strange had and he want to know more from the horse's mouth.

That made James much fearful but he feared that such fear would wash away all his investigation. If his work was like Dr. Hugo Strange's work and research then he surely he led Gotham a stray.

He was most indeed unethical, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham was like, a wolf in sheep's clothing? This man was nothing, but false hopes and promises, all talk and no action? There were whispers, as to what, he really was up too and it was certainly unpleasant.

At first sight; it seemed that Dr. Jeremiah Arkham was a heaven sent, but that was just a heavy fog of untruthfulness. As time went on, it seemed that he knew that Five was really Bruce Wayne?

Yet he acted as if, he hadn't got a clue or he doubted himself, time after time. But it seems like it's all was bullshit in the end. James's thoughts ran wild as he told himself.

"Because what? What was it? He believed our lies? We played our parts so well, especially Five? No, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham only knew half the lie and half the truth? Just enough to keep him busy, but why?"

"We failed, we needed to really sell the tall tale? We had a full story set in place, if, he had questions, but he never asked and that was the risk?"

* * *

The story we used was The Court of Owls' own fabrication and we sold the horrible truth as it were. Because we needed to fool Dr. Jeremiah Arkham the most. It seemed too good too be true that he believed all that we told him and it seemed that it was too good too be true.

I companied the clone to Arkham Asylum after the bridges fell and told the half truth. The story was to fool Dr. Jeremiah Arkham into thinking Bruce Wayne was a spoiled brat without a care in the world. Who was a playboy and a real jerk, if you caught him on a bad night.

It was all Five's doing, so that he could tarnish Bruce's good reputation. Because Five believed that he was still on a mission, which was given to him by The Court of Owls. The mission was to replace Bruce Wayne, so that The Court of Owls' true master could take Wayne Enterprises for himself.

They'd made the real Bruce Wayne, their prisoner to shape and use as they wished. The Court of Owls broke, Bruce Wayne in two and left him at death's door. Before he became their prisoner, in some far and away place, across the ocean, to teach him the way of the world, their way.

Bruce had to first heal, the medicine given; wrecked him more. They broke him over and over again. Till he fit their idea of what, a man should be, cold and emotionless. But somehow he survived in such hellish conditions, by training his mind and body to endure. To play the part and play it well.

This prison was full of the hopeless, the lost and the cruel. Hidden from view, for it was under ground and it was flooded each night with salt water. The prisoners were given food, but not much, especially water.

Because it would rain, time to time and time was against them all. Because the wet season would arrive and if, they didn't make it to the next stage. They would die, in the flooding.

Their bodies would feed the land and give rise to the plants that the prison would us as, nourishment. But the worst thing was that you were still isolated in a deep hole and only jumping to your freedom, could you dream of seeing the real world again.

Yet by that time, many would pledge themselves to their captures. The brainwashing would set in and they'd passed their test and would then happily remain. Stuck in the hole that the world had forgotten.

During the day, the sun's rays weighted down on you and the heat was a killer. During the night, the horrifying flood cycle would begin. It was very cold at night, you'd feel like, you'd freeze too death.

There was so many ways, too lose hope or your life and most of the poor souls, drank the salt water and suffered, a far worst thirst. They'd drank, till they could not. Others begged for water and got beaten for such an act.

Some lost their minds, others their bodies gave up on them, and others just killed themselves, when they lost all hope. There was solace, when the full moon was out, the rest of the time, it was a living nightmare. Yet Bruce made it out and he set out on a great journey west, in order to get back home.

When he came home, Bruce thought that we still had a fighting chance against, The League of Shadows. We won the battle, the dust settled, but the war had only just begun. Bruce felt a great pity for Five.

Because Bruce had a change of heart and he couldn't hate him, he needed to forgive him. In order to live again. Because Five didn't have a life of his own and Bruce want to see Five well one day, just like Gotham.

Because they were one in the same, they both lived in hell and Bruce could not watch anyone suffer, even if, they were monstrous. Because at the root, they had just lost their way much like Gotham had.

So Alfred Pennyworth and Bruce Wayne, put Five in Arkham Asylum. Because The Court of Owls real master made him criminally insane and the war was far from over. Just when we thought there was a break in the clouds, all hell broke lose yet again.

It seems that the lie had worked for it was close to the truth, but Dr. Jeremiah Arkham seems too know too much. Like he had peaked at all his Christmas gifts and was just playing along, just to fake being excited?

The lie, slowly filling in the blanks, or did he go along, but why? What was his end game or did he have one? Why get pulled along? Why? James wonders and thinks back. To when he first seen Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, and he seemed very optimistic, like he could see a way out of all this?

But he seemed nothing more than a bulgur in a black mask, who thinks that he could get away with what, he had done? A cheap shot, even for him. Yet it seems more, then just that and so, James watches him for Gotham's sake, as she is facing her darkest hour and her children, just want to see her well again.

What Dr. Jeremiah Arkham had in-store for Gotham was anyone's guess? Surely there had to be evidence of his crimes? James was yet again at a loss, especially in his own head?

It could just have been be the isolation of Arkham Asylum that was making him paranoid? Thinking the worst of everyone, especially with Ra's al Ghul out there? It just didn't sit well with him, not one bit. James couldn't let go, the information that he was certain of, and he ran it over and over again in his mind.

* * *

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham was told that the clone, made by some unknown identity and all the rumour points too, the mysterious Court of Owls. An organization that was now deemed a hoax or a conspiracy.

As so many put the blame on Wayne Enterprises, because the company was being run by a green horn and the corruption ran wild. Because of Bruce's inexperience of running a company that was at the heart of the city and arguably the world.

Bruce was far too young to butt out the weeds, that were slowly taking over, his birthright. This was how, the public viewed their opinion, which could have be seen as a weak explanation, as to why Gotham had so much misfortune?

We sold the lie to Dr. Jeremiah Arkham like, it was tabloid magazines' and he bought all of them? But I fear that was not the case. It really was too good too be taken seriously, for it sounded like, a work of fiction? The old saying fits best. "Truth is stranger, than fiction?"

But it didn't work.

Our situation fits his plans like, a key to a lock. Nothing seems to be real or in working order, but not to him, not too Arkham? Gordon needed too know why? But he feared that he would never get any answers or a confession?

* * *

In Gordon's deeps of thoughts, he knows that Five was trying his best too help Gotham calm down. So that the city would not sink, so fast, into the mud, with no helping hand to get us out.

Yet there is a tiny ray of hope and it came, when Five made a deal with a small hand full of scientists. Such as Victor Fries, and the one that had caused him such a great deal of pain.

He Had puts his feelings aside and he puts his faith in Dr. Hugo Strange hands, but it was a foolish mistake, if James could have stopped him he would have but he was stuck on the wrong side of the river. Which was so madding. Because that man thinks himself, a god among men.

When he was just, as lost as the rest of us? There was no doubt about that, but he too was steps ahead. Pretending to help and being nice, just to hit us from behind. He found a drug within Wayne Enterprises data base and that drug was Valour.

Valour had been on the streets, unbeknownst to anyone, except for the enemy we trusted. Five, had been masquerading, as Bruce Wayne and acts the part so well, achieving his calling? Five is out there with Alfred Pennyworth and Lucius Fox looking for answers.

The burden of being Bruce Wayne most weigh heavy? James wonders if he really was one of us but his actions spoken more of his heart. James had to believe that they share a common enemy. Be it, The Court of Owls, or The League of Shadows and their Master and ruler, Ra's al Ghul.

Soon they will all pay for what, they had done to Gotham, to Bruce Wayne and Five, and justice will prevail. James hoped that Five could hold out and see the light? A light James could not find but acted as if there were one, just to not break anyone's spirit, just as he had told Bruce long ago. "The world maybe dark, but there will be-light."

James understood that Five, wished to see Bruce well. So that he could see him, to say good-bye and too give him a gift before he dies. So that he could know that Bruce Wayne would live on in a better world.

James on the other hand, had the burden of watching Bruce Wayne, suffer with illness. It was as if, Bruce was cursed, not just for being Five, but being here, behind these walls It was not supposed to be this way; my officers and I were not met to be hostages, for the elite, who were afraid of their own shadows.

Because of the madness that Gotham fell into, their fear and hallucinations made them blow up all the bridges, yet that seems off? The elite and their actions had doomed us all? The fear; a toxin, much like the biohazards that mutated and became, the calling card of The Joker.

The bastard that deserves to be cast to the flames that he had set to our home. James remembers the screams, the blood and the slaughter. Je remembered that Ra's al Ghul took both the fear and the joker toxin, combined them to form a deadly drug called valour.

Just to weed out the weak. We had thought Valour was a miracle, but it was not to be for a group of poor souls that took Grit and they became enslaved to the drug Grit and too Ra's al Ghul.

Ra's al Ghul then found his weapons of choice that he called his daggers, Bruce Wayne the one to survive Grit and Valour and all the horrible mess that changed him. He had been turned into a dagger and the daggers were both living and dead.

They were zombie-like till the drugs, Grit and valour wore off and they died, but not Bruce Wayne, he was worthy to be Ra's al Ghul's dagger of death and conquest.

Alfred said that Ra's al Ghul, believed in a prophetic vision that he was find an heir and within his heir a great power dwelled. If, Ra's al Ghul could take the heir's heart and will it to his side, he'd have a true power.

He would no longer need the Lazarus Pit too escape death. Then he could claim back his dead soul, so that he could be whole, once more and then he could be truly be immortal, never to fear death again.

For long ago a creature that was also seen as God, a God of Death and of Sacrifice had took his head and his soul and casted his dead body into the dark abyss and his soul was lost to the underworld.

This God made him, The Demon's Head, whose soul was doomed to wonder the underworld looking for his corpse that was stuck in the living world. If, he waited long enough a vision would show him, an heir and if, he was lucky to find his heir's heart and take it.

He could then see in the underworld and he could find his lost head, his soul and his body. Then he would be worth to be called death and rule over it. We never knew this, till it was too late, the devil himself told us, just before he left with Bruce's heart, his light and his moon.

* * *

What Ra's al Ghul put Bruce Wayne through was heartbreaking and Bruce didn't want to kill anyone, anymore and so he tried to kill himself, one last kill. Because Bruce feared that the drugs in his body had changed his chemistry and he feared what, he would do next for all his nightmares had come true.

He was a born killer, it was in his DNA and there was nothing left but to embrace what he had become, Death, the destroyer of worlds.


	6. I'm Death

Long ago an ordinary man had died on a battlefield and the water of the Lazarus Pit resurrected him and thus, this man became to be known as, The Demon's Head and the keeper of The Lazarus Pit and in time, he would come to lead his own army.

The waters left Ra's al Ghul with an obsession, visions and it came to him during his time in the afterlife. It was of a weapon, a dagger that needed to be forged and shaped to Death's will.

Ra's al Ghul set his eyes towards the sea and the end of the world but he would have to wait for the right time and he had to wait in the shadows, till he felt the need to set sail for the other side.

Ra's al Ghul had wondered, The Old World for so long, he had enough of it and he longed for the chance to change the world's view and so, he seeks the edge of the earth. He knew the masses believed the earth was flat, and that was just a spray of pure nonsense.

Ra's al Ghul made his voyage across the great ocean of deadly hardships and to the land of vast green and dangerous beauty, it was indeed a vision to behold and it called out to him from the darkness of his visions.

* * *

The New World was indeed beautiful, dangerous and it cut them off guard. Ra's al Ghul and his men had found themselves captured. Their guns had failed them, for his men wasted their fire power, as they were too fearful of the unknown world and Ra's al Ghul had lost control of them, and they shock in their metal armour. Ra's al Ghul was most disappointed.

Their hidden enemies stepped out of the shadow of the great forest and they took, all their empty weapons and buried them under a giant tree, this tree was deep within the jungle and it stood in front of a huge cave and they were lead down into the massive cave.

Where the captors slaughtered, all his men and they collected their blood and marched Ra's al Ghul deeper into the cave, then the men lit torches and the flames revealed a temple of gold.

This temple was the heart of the cave and they dragged him up, a set of stairs to a golden altar at the top of the temple and the men lit a bonfire and stood by its flame. Ra's al Ghul saw an obsidian mirror as four other men tied him down to the altar. Then he hears a whistle that echoed and sounded just like a murder and pure fear.

A Priest stepped into view and pulled out a dagger made of imperial jade and obsidian that was fashioned to look like a bat. The Priest ran it through Ra's al Ghul, it ripped into his chest and blood filled his mouth, he could not scream for agony, the whistle did that for him.

The Priest reached into the exposed chest and he grabs Ra's al Ghul's heart and his victim watched his heart beat, one last time. The Priest then cast the heart into the flame. Then he took his dagger, once more and cuts off the head.

The Priest's men then ripped Ra's al Ghul's flesh off his meat and bones. The Priest covered in blood, tosses the head into the abyss and walks back into the darkness of the cave. The Priest's men then cuts Ra's al Ghul's body in four and toss the pieces down into the waters below.

* * *

Ra's al Ghul wakened from death in such a great fright and madness hit him like a sandstorm. He struggled to stay afloat in the waters that glows with jade and he looks too see the bonfire.

The Priest stepped into its light and commanded his men, they descended and so the hunt began. They chased Ra's al Ghul deeper into the cave, the heartless man stopped in his tracks and the hunters fire lit his surroundings and above him was a giant bat and it screeches, the sound was like thunder and its wind, smelled of blood.

The walls that surrounded them were flowing and it had that metallic smell for it was blood. The giant bat landed and took a humanoid form and it spoke to him in a language, Ra's al Ghul could not understand yet some how, he understood the creature's words and it said. "I'm Death."

In the creature's hand, the dagger that stabbed him and The Death Bat said to him.

" Demon, you will find, a worthy heir and I will give you the power to do so. For you have been in the fountain of youth, the blood of our mother earth and you were reborn and given visions of this heir covered in dark but... You have come too soon, it is not time for The Old and The New too meet. This is not for you to find. Leave now, and only return, when humanity has conquered fire and changed the whole world from green and lush, to one of metal and glass that reaches for the night's sky."

"Only then will I pit you against your opponent, the one who has been at the end and the beginning. The clairvoyant, whose sons were victim and villains. In order to defeat him, you must find the place that is to be called the homestead where goats are kept. This will be his home and I demand blood from the one that had slain you and you must willingly let him kill you. Your heir this dagger of mine, its in arm's reach of the key and his blood has the power to unlocking the gates that holds deep darkness. Only then will you be able to battle him."

"If you defeat your opponent, then I will give you, what your heart so wishes... Do you agree to the terms, Ra's al Ghul?" Ra's al Ghul told Death. "Yes." and The Death Bat said.

"Very well demon, then except this, I was the one, who had named you, The Demon's Head, for this is what, I've taken from you. Your soul dwells in the underworld in pure darkness, my kingdom yet you've walked amongst the living, hopeless to see your soul and its mine. Just as I keep your opponent under lock and key and out of view for now."

With that said, Death droves his dagger across the neck of The Demon's Head and he receives the illusion of death, everything fades into shadow but not before, The Death Bat said.

"illusion and lies is his game and to defeat him, you'll have to set the stage, this will crush his heart. Then you'll wheeled, a dagger of death, it will be as if, I have been by your side, all this time, like a shadow and a reflection."

When Ra's al Ghul awoken, it was to the blazing hot sun and he was on his ship back too The Old World. He knew he had lost something most precious. His soul and he could feel what, he had become all those years ago and he rushed to the ship's edge and he looks at the ocean and finally could he see it for himself, and it was a corpse. A blight a upon the earth.

* * *

Ra's al Ghul awoke from his slumber and his visions of the far past faded into shadow and he recalls the devastation in Bruce's eyes, when his moon, his light was ripped out of the night sky, when he realized that he killed, the one he loved and it broke him in two and he could not cope with what he had done but he could not kill himself for it was not his time.

The drugs coursing in his veins would not allow him to die, for his blood was the key to unlocking deaths cool grip on his soul and he wishes that he'll never have to use the Lazarus Pit ever again for he'd be a true immortal.

Bruce's mind was fit for the battle to come, the dagger was ready, and Ra's al Ghul felt it was his destiny to wheel such a weapon that could defeat all his enemies and his reign of everlasting rule, would then have no one that could dethrone him.

The time has come to seek out his dagger and bring his guide of the underworld, The Catwoman. The battle for eternal life was at hand.

* * *

Ra's know all to well that to the Romans, a cat was said to be liberty and divinity and was associated with Diana the goddess of The Hunt and Moon and Diana was associated with the Egyptain Goddess Bast, a Feline Goddess that was said to be a guardian of home and family and cats are said to possess the ability to see in the dark and therefore in the underworld and could guide a lost soul out of the underworld with their eyes.

* * *

Ra's al Ghul had all; he needed to win this war and this dark game he had found himself in. He had come to know, the answers in time and they were all in Gotham. His visions were unclear and covered in darkness for a long time for this gift comes with great fear of the future.

It brought the same feeling as his encounter with Death and Bruce Wayne was connected to this creature of the night, this God of Death and Sacrifice. In time the visions shown to Ra's al Ghul had showed him two paths and they mirrored one another.

One grows more blood thirsty and cheerful, in the delight of his newfound chaos and the other was dark and hopeful. In time many visions came to Ra's al Ghul and he saw the story unfold of the hero twins, who were gifted ball players and hunters of birds, whom became the Sun and the Moon, Life and Death, Day and Night, Feminine and Masculine, for they were the duality of such things.

The visions came to Ra's al Ghul like waves in a sea, then one of great importance, a blind man that sat in front of mirrors and he could see Ra's al Ghul and he was watching him through time.

This man had been at the end and the beginning, for he had lost his sight to witnessing such an occurrence. Though he could not see the world, he could still see with his gift of foresight which was rooted and held in the mirrors of his funhouse.

This man was Paul Cicero, The Blind Fortuneteller of Haly's Circus and he was Ra's al Ghul's opponent, whose sons were victim and villains; they were the face of the Joker. Never did Ra's al Ghul think, he would learn whom, The Joker was, let alone, find out there were two of them.

Yet somehow he did, and what he had thought was to pass, did not happen as such, he was wrong about the pattern of reality. It was changed ever so slightly, but where did it occur, this change? Ra's thought he could use the Joker, so he could push The Dagger to fulfill his purpose of being a weapon forged in fire and blood.

Except that all went to hell, the Joker twisted Ra's al Ghul's plans and Ra's was doomed to take another path, as the Joker watched the city burn at his feet, like it was the whole world shattered to pieces, much like him and his twisted smile.

Ra's al Ghul understood far too late that he was not met to kill, his opponent that his son Jerome Valeska beat him to the punchline, by sticking a knife in his eye. Now Jeremiah Valeska was pure madness for he thinks, himself Jerome, and everyone lets him dwell in that madness.

As Jeremiah thinks, his being haunted by his dead brother, who is trying to take his body for himself and plans to destroy Bruce Wayne. Jeremiah confuses Bruce for Jerome yet not at all.

It would seem that Jeremiah sees Bruce as a brother, or a dear friend that he wished Jerome was, or maybe he sees, his former self within Bruce. For this reason Jeremiah wants Bruce at his side, nonetheless or was it? Only time could tell such a tale.

All Ra's al Ghul could see in the sea was darkness and all he could hear was what, Paul Cicero, told Jerome. "Your legacy will be Death and Madness."

* * *

Little did Ra's know that Dr. Jeremiah Arkham thinks he could cure The Joker by pushing his mind further into madness, with the hope that he'd see his true self and be guided back to sanity as Jeremiah Valeska, the child prodigy and it all seemed like a terrible lie.

Many put Dr. Jeremiah Arkham's theory down, but it seemed that he knew Jerome Valeska well enough, how long had he worked on Jerome, from the beginning? Ra's al Ghul could not see, for it was covered from his view, but he had seen, what Bruce Wayne, could come to be one day and he saw, the dagger that took his heart and it was The Death Bat.

Ra's al Ghul thought, it would be fitting that he would take the Bat's heart, his home and his love, Selina just to fashion him into the dagger that cut him down in that dark cave that turned him into the walking dead.

* * *

Ra's al Ghul could finally seek out Paul Cicero, who was The Death Bat's prisoner and The Death Bat would rise and set Paul Cicero free and Ra's could then wage a war against him.

A great battle for the souls of the damned would take place and who ever wins, would be bestowed with everlasting life. The winner would rule over life and death, heal any wound and finally become a god of death surround by gold, death's symbol.

To the loser, they would be led to the great tree where evil and the weapons of man lay underneath, buried away and he'd come to know what the tree truly held and he'd know the price of knowledge and wisdom.

A fate befitting a foolish old man, who had the whole world thinking he had no sons, till Jerome showed the world, and he killed his parents and doomed his brother to the edge of the river of time.

Because he thought his father and mother didn't care for him, but Paul Cicero fooled them all, for he did in fact cared, though he became the devil, he also had time to see just how wicked the new world order truly was. Now that Ra's al Ghul could crush him, knowing that he did in fact, once have a heart.

All Ra's al Ghul needs to do is kill Jeremiah Valeska and he will use his dagger to do it. The hard part was done as Jerome was dead and gone.

* * *

Selina told Ra's that she had found Paul Cicero and his soul and they were in the underworld and she knew their location there but lost it and her mind. The Lazarus Pit's effects of madness hit her and she had lost herself, in her search and lost many lives in the process.

It took great lengths, but she managed to get all the information that Ra's al Ghul needed to win this war, but a giant snake and Jerome Valeska guards their souls and they would make it hard for them when the time came.


	7. Their only solace

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham seemed to be a stone's throw away from all the imperfections in Captain James Gordon's story and the waters were about to be disturbed. James could truly feel the grave danger, he was in and his hunch was right, Dr. Jeremiah was indeed on to him.

James could feel panic slowly taking his breath and in his soul a great flood had washed over him and took him out to sea, stuck in hopelessness, regret and abandonment, for he let himself drift away, surely death was just a heartbeat away.

James's fate was sealed the moment, he picked up The Joker, off from the floor and he followed with him in hand as Dr. Jeremiah Arkham took them deeper within.

* * *

James was now Dr. Jeremiah Arkham's attendant and his job was to make sure that The Joker's restrains were secure that he could not get off from the examining table, or take the headpiece of his head, all this effort to hold his madness and control it.

James saw first hand the madness that Jerome and Jeremiah Valeska had caused and it plungged Gotham into darkness. Their frustration and fear set everything up in flames for Gotham had done them wrong but in their twisted sense of reality, they found happiness in their artistry, this madness was their only solace.

James could see Jeremiah Valeska for what he was yet seeing him sleeping in his restrains, so soundly like he was in a coffin. He could see the small details of Jeremiah's expression and he looked, drawn out like he was the blood smear stain of a murder or that he had witnessed such horrors, such travesty and so much death surrounds him and oozes from him.

It didn't help that Jeremiah Valeska looked so much like death. So pale devoid of life, his lips smeared with the colour of blood and his once fiery red hair turned to a dark moss green that could be mistaken for black in the right lighting.

Many saw a clown and so they dubbed him with the name of The Joker, The Clown Prince of Crime but too James, he was The Dark Prince and was just as bloodthirsty as that monster. Yet Jeremiah was beyond that, just so broken like a smashed up mirror, without a care, including himself and he'd sooner watch everything burn, like it was a bonfire on a hot summer's night.

A most haunting thought hit James with a force of misfortune and he could see himself in Jeremiah Valeska, because he felt a great fear and it told him that he was no better, then the ones he locks away and he hated this feeling that there was indeed a monster hidden within him, one who had a fondness for guns.

For so long, James hated himself for he saw a monster looking back at him and it scared him. Because he felt like he give the people of Gotham, a false symbol of hope, by shining a light that night, thinking they had a fighting chance and now, he cannot forgive himself for doing such a thing, he felt sinful even though he know better.

They were all, so ill prepared for this war and so this fear and hatred feeds the monster within and now he could imagine, what he could be or will be. Just by looking at Jeremiah Valeska, The Joker, the monster that could take shape in anyone, or maybe it was there all along, waiting to claw its way out.

This was the madness speaking and drowning him in such thoughts. It made his hair on the back of his neck stand up and take notice. James could tell that Dr. Jeremiah Arkham was analyzing him, his movements and his expressions to the micro level.

It felt as if, the doctor could read his mind, like he was an open book and James wondered if, he could see his fear and it was Ra's al Ghul coming for his weapon, his dagger and he will take Bruce Wayne and he'd sharpen him too his will. Here we are waiting around like sitting ducks, during hunting season.

Ra's al Ghul was stirring the pot and he placed the wild card in his favour and he most certainly had a murderous use for Jeremiah Valeska, once agin or was it something totally different and all James knew was that time was against them.

* * *

If it were not for Five showing up went he did then there would have been more blood in the water. All of it, has been soul draining and what Five' told us. Was most distressing, the drug, Grit was perfected on him.

When The Court of Owls was tasked in testing Grit for Ra's al Ghul and they exposed Five to hardship and he was manipulated and tormented with this drug and is the main reason he doesn't feel pain. Grit numbed and robbed Five of all his emotions and it shortens his life and it didn't help that he was a clone, because clones lives are short to begin with.

Five endured horrifying false memories of a place he never set foot and this was a form of conditioning but he learnt that it was very real, the flooding prison, only damnation is sent there too rot. These memories were planted into him, while he was in Indian Hill and most likely in other individuals, who had the misfortune of ending up there.

* * *

Ra's al Ghul was coming and they were goats up for slaughter, the blemish that has to be rid of and this whole situation was just a clearing. Gotham was the murder capital and a port for the worst drugs and human trafficking; the list goes on and on. Only God knows, all the nightmare the Devil sees in a day.

James recalls how, out of thin air Dr. Jeremiah Arkham appeared from the darkness, and he spoke with such a calming effect, the erratic elites minds had been eased, like music that calms the beast.

The doctor told us that he could help bring Gotham from the brink and the answer was hidden, here in the madness and he said. "I believe that the mind holds the key to finding the right medicine to balance the masses."

He just needed to find the right minds to do it, the brain as he saw it, was like a chemical factory and when the mind is lost, then the chemical factory is abandoned and anything could happen there, mayhem and what not.

It was as if, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham had witness an alternative universe or heard tales of the great beyond, but that was madness, then again he had surrounded himself with such circles.

* * *

Gotham was at its breaking point and Dr. Jeremiah Arkham's word stabled the panic minds but it all sounded too good too be true. Dr. Jeremiah Arkham was so secretive, about his work and that didn't sit well with the G.C.P.D and their Captain. The more Captain James Gordon watched, it was clear that the doctor was a greedy fool, who was seeking something more, and their educated guess, was most likely bang on the money and it had something to do with Arkham Asylum, after all, his an Arkham.

* * *

Alfred Pennyworth told Captain James Gordon that Thomas and Martha Wayne were at odds with Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, but since he was an Arkham they wanted to redevelop Arkham Asylum with his blessing.

So they worked out their differences as Martha Wayne pushes the plans to reopen Arkham district and make it, into an area where the less fortunate, could find hope and so the Wayne's were in the mist of purchasing Arkham Asylum and the surrounding grounds, so that Gotham's healing process could being and before they began their endeavour, they were murdered in cold blood.

Martha Wayne had put in a good word of recommendation for Dr. Jeremiah Arkham yet most likely he had to work his way up to the top, in the end. Martha's choice to help Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, would have got her into trouble with the law systems but she was willing to do that, just to see Gotham well and Thomas and her risked being on the wrong side of the law.

The business folk turned a blind eye, for they saw an opportunity and they to wished to gain, something more and many watched the Wayne's try their best and fail.

Why was Arkham district and Arkham Asylum so important too so many? Then there is Ra's al Ghul wanting all of Gotham and yet he too, will come too Arkham. It all connects but why?

* * *

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham seems to have incredible luck and that didn't sit will with Alfred, Lucius and James. Alfred told them that he only met Dr. Jeremiah Arkham once, when the Wayne's went for a finalizing meeting about Arkham district and Arkham Asylum and shortly after Matches Malone murdered them.

Alfred still blames himself for the Wayne's murder, because he didn't paid attention to the dangers that lurked in the dark, because he was so caught up in the Wayne's hopefulness as they were finally happy and Gotham seemed to be going in the right direction.

The Wayne's had Bruce and they were just so very happy, Because Thomas and Martha had struggled to have children in the past and Bruce was their miracle. Thomas Wayne said that because, they thought they could not have children; they decided that they would help the less fortunate.

The Wayne's poured their funds into the Children's Hospital and the orphanages that was scattered across Gotham and into many child and family programs, they did so, right up to the time they died and Bruce continued that for them, to the best of his ability and now Five carries that weight.

The Wayne's were trying to fix, what was so broken, like Gotham was a sick child that Dr. Thomas Wayne was seeing and trying to heal. His dear wife Martha and him had plans to help Gotham but it was never met to be.

Here, Alfred and I placed the Wayne's most valued treasure in Arkham Asylum, thinking Bruce would be save hiding out as Five, just so that Ra's al Ghul would not have his dagger again.

We were damned, if we let Ra's al Ghul have Bruce and so we put our foolish little plan together that we hashed in a hurry and then things just spin out of control from there.

Arkham Asylum over the years had different management, from being ran by The Court of Owls, who did experiments under it's belly, the secret location of Indian Hill, which was funded by Wayne Enterprise, which was ran by Ra's al Ghul from the shadows but it didn't go to their plan and he came to town, and now he seems to ignore everything just to set his sights on Bruce Wayne.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham was now in a comfortable position to be in control of his birthright, it only took a great catastrophic disaster to gain his small victory.

It was said that Dr. Jeremiah Arkham's uncle, went mad here and killed many on these grounds of Arkham Asylum, ruining the name of all Arkham's and now Dr. Jeremiah Arkham was the last and he most likely wants too right a wrong but his methods are questionable at best.

* * *

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham led Jerome Valeska to Five's unit to see, if Jerome would kill Five and he could not. Arkham knows now that Five is Bruce Wayne or his just playing along for some unknown reason.

What was Dr. Jeremiah Arkham up to, it was as if, he was mad himself, thinking Jeremiah was Jerome. Was it, because they shared the same name of Jeremiah, is this why he calls him Jerome?

It's like Dr. Jeremiah Arkham pushes Jeremiah Valeska deeper into madness, surely this is not going to end well. This is just some sick and twisted game to him?

* * *

James walked to his chair at a calm rate and sat down, he knew it was a trap but there is no stopping the inevitable. Suddenly cuffs sprang up and trapped James then something pricked his wrists and he felt drowsy. James was a prisoner and he watches Dr. Jeremiah Arkham set up another table to his dread and James said, in an unclear voice. "What is this?"

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham had an unwelcoming smile as Bruce Wayne was brought into the room and placed next to Jeremiah Valeska.


	8. Drifting away

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham seemed to be both horrified and joyous; it was like he had waited, all his life for this very moment. The medical staff that accompanied Bruce Wayne, looked like they had fought a war, just too keep him under control, just as the orderlies had with Jeremiah Valeska, till Captain James Gordon deflated the situation.

However, the tables have turned and Jeremiah Valeska, is now a delight, sleeping peacefully, as if he was contented. Compared too Bruce Wayne, who's in a truly unpleasant sleep, which was very much like, death warmed up?

And Bruce still requires fluids and oxygen, thus he still had a great deal of tubes running from his damaged figure like, they were branches of a willow tree. It was transparent that he was very much like, an ancient tree that was once, the heart of a lush and deep forest, that held many wonders and riches.

Yet now, that was no longer the case, as it all had been burned to the ground and was nothing, but a barren landscape now, just as the city was left too rot away, like it was just memory, a terrible memory.

Bruce fell back into his coma-like state and he was unaware of the struggle, he had put the staff through. It seemed that such a fate was now, contagious, the citizens of Gotham were truly lost with nothing, to lose, what more could they give?

Gotham was at a cross road, yet that was not the case as, the devil was at play. Ra's al Ghul was very much lurking in the shadows, waiting for the real game to start, as this was just the prelude.

This darkness was very much black rain, and Gotham was now witnessing the disaster that was never truly dealt with, the oil spill that covered everything in such, repulsive sludge that overwhelms the ecosystem.

Such heartache, that things had become such a hell. Everything and everyone was so affected by this dark cloud of madness. It didn't matter, who you were, or what you did, it just changed the game forever, as it took control, like it was the string of fate that pulls at your heart and your life, inching you closer too death.

This madness had everyone running for the hills and screaming bloody murder, as they were torn apart, limb from bloody limb. Most knew that Gotham was a place that eats people up and spit them out. A place where you had to be cruel, to be seen or you were just left on the street, to wonder about in the darkness all alone.

Most knew that they were living in a system that was failing them, one by one. But most were too afraid too ask the important questions. Why? Who was at the heart of all this turmoil? How come their lives were so very hare, while others were not? When were they forced to pretend that nothing was wrong, but normal?

Only a small few knew that there was something or someone orchestrating, all of it. But they didn't knew the why, or what was lurking, till it was far too late. To question anything, and if you did, surely you would die a horrible death, for asking such things.

Time after time, death and despair had gripped the city and tighten their chains. Time after time, there was madness in hot pursuit of death and still nothing had changed, except that it got worse, each time.

Gotham was a well oiled machine of a broken system, that broke the laws of time and space. A place were the souls of the living was crushed, and tied. The people, just couldn't see it, but they sure could feel it, in their bones, like winter's breath on their necks.

It was as if, they all had there parts too play. Forced too pull, an invisible chain that binds a disobedient dog. How could they see? When they were just apart of the machine? How could they know that Ra's al Ghul held the chain?

A chain that was tied to Bruce Wayne, held him at the end, which made him, an empty shell. There was nothing more, except isolation. The echo of an unimaginable agony; surely, the young man would not be able to recognize, his own face, let alone remember, his own name or purpose, just Ra's al Ghul's.

Such a tragedy that there is no escaping such misery, not even sleep, could console him and without fail, he'd even forget, all about his pain and suffering. He'd walk to the edge like the fool, cold and numb. There he'd cross the line and hope to die, but what a fail, just the mud below.

There he'd sink into the mud and there he'd remain, as if, it was his sarcophagus. Buried alive, yet so numb, too expression any feeling after the fall. He'd take his last breath, and welcome the coldness of an endless winter, as it eat his heart.

For his fate was one that is meant to be cold and cruel, for he had melted away in the fire and destruction of his home and heart. Poisoned, just so he could be fashioned into a demon, a dagger, a soulless machine of order and obedience.

Who was turned into a nightmare, which took the orders of his unkind king, as his dark knight, his instrument that brings death to all things. As he was now, this dagger, such the solider, broken, reimagined and forged by war, the burning and suffocating flames that melted him into nothingness and caged his heart in hellfire.

Never would Bruce Wayne, be able to dream or hope to see the light of day, as he was chained in metal shackles. Yet always trying too escape the darkness of his mind, but hopelessly trapped, nevertheless. He'd never know why that was, or why he was all ways searching for answers.

Never could anyone, dare to walk through hellfire, too save his soul, and who would such a thing now? That he had no real voice of his own, not after, what he did and didn't do. Tricked, time after time. All there is for him now, was the nothingness, the lack of kindness, the absence of happiness, and the poverty of love.

For Bruce Wayne was nothing more, other than a weapon that could be put on display, or casted aside, like an unwanted gun in a garbage bin. Stuck in such a world and existence. There can only be the ash of the fallen and now. He'd smear the hot ash across his lifeless face and wear it, like war paint, ready for war yet again.

This creature he had become, was the most ugly and vile creature that you would ever see. Fatigue and illness would set into your very being and lay waste, to your very soul, just by the sheer madness of him.

As you stare at the departed smile of his that drips with broken flesh and blood, such a sight would age you, beyond your years and turn your hair white, as snow. And you would not realize still, that you were dead, all this time, like the fallen leafs of autumn beneath the deep winter's snow.

There he'd slip away into the loneliness of the bitter darkness and he'd breath it in, like the decay of picked roses on a chill night. There he'd remain, frozen in time and never would he be able to wake up from such a nightmare of being, neither living nor dead.

He'd embody such hopelessness, like he was a statue of memorial. For unseen eyes that followed with him and his journey, so that they could my cents of it all. Because he wasn't really there, just non cents that he was the first sign, to the end of days?

He'd never see, beyond the undying memory of grief. Never would he imagine, that he could be set free from such, a thing as his agony. Instead he'd show you, what he kept hidden inside, the fear that was given to him and never could anyone escape him and his rage.

All because of the grief that he held on too, for oh so long. Never could he be able to take flight, and escape his madness that trapped him in a loop. So damaged his soul that he'd stay stuck in his mind, like it was just a funhouse of smoke and mirrors.

Force to repeat the nightmare, over and over again, like it was his favourite movie in the whole wide world, The Mark of Zorro. Bruce's tale was nothing more, but a feverish delusion that unseen eyes had loved and cherish, like he was theirs to hold, forever more.

He was gone, lost and alone. Never to find, peace and rest, even though he was sound asleep. Lock away in a body that could never move. Because his was wondering the wastelands with the thrown away keys, never too return.

* * *

The medical staff, looked so very far and away, so uncaring, yet were so very frantic in their movements, it spoke of fear and hate. As they did not wish to upset Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, for they knew better. Then too ask questions and so, they paid no attention too the other two in the room, the lunatic and the leading light.

They'd just go about their jobs and assist, the doctor. By placing the same kind of restrains that held Jeremiah Valeska, and they put them on too, this other soulless decomposing creature. Which too them, didn't deserve too live, or take their precious time and effort.

This clone, this abomination was not worth a damn, for such a creature had no reflection in their eyes. They viewed this monster, as a sign of the apocalypse that had come to Gotham, and took Bruce Wayne's face, like the soul stealer it was.

In their heads, ultimately, this damnation was Bruce Wayne's biggest skeleton in his closet and he swiped it under a rug, just like that, there was nothing to see, yet they saw it very well. So it seemed and the medical staff had no clue, how could they?

This, so-called monster was indeed Bruce Wayne in the flesh, not some corruption of life, which they saw as some freeloader, living large, being selfish and finding a whole lot of trouble, the kind that ruins lives, their lives.

Their opinion about the young billionaire would not change, if they knew the truth and were honest; they still determine that Bruce Wayne was just some wishy-washy brat, who could not hold a candle to the sun and they would laugh at all his failures.

These people if they knew, they would have been, so very glad that the mighty, Wayne's name was being dragged through the mud and put into its place. Jealousy is what these people had, Because they could not have, luxury and fame.

Bruce, the last Wayne was deemed a joke and a disappointment, in their eyes. For the whole notion was hard for them too see, to make sense of it all. Bruce Wayne's loss and gains, trying to run a multi billion-dollar company, at such a young age.

In their minds, if they knew, that they had the best seats in town. They surely would have been fiends about it, scalped their tickets to the blood show. Just to know, that wealth and fortune had an end too. Everything falls, sooner or later and time was a wasting.

But what they could not see was, that the young man's story was just as grim, as anyone else. The Tale of Bruce Wayne, the greatest misfortune, this side of Gotham, the poor soul that was cast with such a fate.

A youth stuck with such a mind-boggling amount of wealth. How could they not see, he was surely, doomed, right from the beginning, till his last days were numbered. For his fate was very much like winning a lottery. It's a curse and death waits, especially in Gotham, where everyone acts as if, they were bloodsuckers, yet not at all.

All these people truly care about, is what lines the last Wayne's pockets, the fame and fortune. They want it all, but not the true price of fame and fortune, their stomachs hunger for which is horrific.

Yet they still hunger and growl with envy, as they smell the new blood in the water and still, they would not see that too be a Wayne, there is a cost, much like, a deal with a devil.

You'd be lost and stuck reading the details of the contact that you were too lazy too read and you'd regret it. If you could remember, what you signed, so long ago and it would feast on your heart, like a truth that you'd hide and locked the gates and throughway the keys.

Never would anyone realize that The Wayne's died, and that event conducted such a loss of life, not just theirs, but everyone else's and it was on a level of mass scales, much like gravity and the nature of all things. Just how could two small pieces of metal, send ripples in the fluidity of the multiverse?

It was like, throwing stones across a lake and watching them skip on the surface of the water and sink out of sight, beautiful to a committee of few and the amazement of the unseen. Just beyond, the death and chaos that Gotham had faced.

The Wayne's had a direct connection to the suffering, like they were to blame for it all, along. The Wayne's were hard to see, as if, they were not real at all, not one of them were.

Therefore, it could be said, that it was their fault. Why the bridges fell in the first place and so it was the Wayne's that let the vampire in. This dark curse, hangs above their heart and home, like a rainstorm that rains down on the circus of people that have gathered in front of the gates of their home.

Demanding answers to the insanity and they would not get any, as The Wayne's are dead, as a door nobs and nobody knows the sheer madness of it all. How could they, when the true battle has just begun.

These people that follow Dr. Jeremiah Arkham so blindly, that they have no clue and so they felt that they have all the right, too truly stopped giving a shit. As their thoughts had told them that there is no point in caring anymore, that they were free to do, as they pleased.

But what, a foolish lie, they had told themselves to easy their suffering. How could they tell themselves, such a lie and when did that occurred? Could not tell you with a straight face? Maybe, maybe not? Did it happened when, they had heard the radio and it told them that the government had given up on Gotham, like it was always this evil?

The best they can do is follow, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham and do as they are told, like the toys, they are. They don't know that the so-called abomination is far from them and their walls that they mistaken for protection, as they ride out the wicked storm.

In the mean time, they are a bunch of fools, thinking that they are safe and sound. When they are in the eye of the storm and it's only going too get worse, far worse. Their ignorance must be bliss, or maybe it's fear that stops them from seeing, what's in front of them, doom and loom are here to stay?

To know the truth; they wouldn't be able to handle such a matter. Once you have seen, you can't unseen it, like a godforsaken phobia. Knowing the truth, most would loathe it. Because it would be like, looking at the darkness and it seems so deep, as if, it were to suck you in, or that you could fall in and be lost, further more.

Yet the dark truth; is not so deep, but flat like, a mirror that has you trapped, looking at the dead of space and time. Now you're desperately, fighting tooth and nail. All the while.

You wished that you had never, looked at such a thing and you're trying to ignore the truth, like it never happened, that nightmare, that bad day that had turned everything up side down.

* * *

Meanwhile in a well-hidden location, deep in Gotham's under belly, a place that has seen its fair share of chaos and death. The flames of destruction had wounded Gotham so, everyone had tried there best to face death in the eye.

But, not all could and one by one, they embraced the darkness, like an old friend. Laughing at you side, till you fade within the flames of madness and all your sin wound follow close in hand.

Other just watched in silent and some with joy, but the truth of the matter. Gotham was really gone, like a last laugh caught in the cross fire of a secret that was meant to die and be buried in the ground, so very far away from the living.

The Paranoia still remains, like a double-dog-dare that barks, like the hounds of hell and nothing seems to be real. Or how it was all in your head, then again, that sounds in your cranium, alway there, no running from, only with, just too play died.

In a run down house, as a unseen war casts its shadow, such an rotten evil, eating the heart, the dream and the hope of you humanity. Its teeth, knives, twisting and turning, your insides out and your blood smeared across its face, till you let go and drifting away into the fickleness and glee of the hollowness.

Five found himself, in a ritual of his own making, like he was obsessive-compulsive. In his mind, his tasks were simple enough, but he was so ever wrong and he was overwhelmed.

Though, he didn't understand that he was overwhelmed. He was actually, burden with such a heavy weight; as he tries so very hard too negotiate, with the government officials. He pleas and he asks, them to send a second wave of reinforcements, to support Gotham.

But these people, these suits are unmoved, by such talk and they tell him, in the coldest of matters. "No Mr. Wayne, Gotham is just an eye sore, that should be forgotten, as such, like the worthless piece of trash, it has become... Gotham bit our hands and so, we have no choice, but too declare it, a no fly zone..."

"Our peacekeepers have been pulled and we have established, a barrier between Gotham and the rest of the nation... Because Gotham's illness, would spread far and wide, not just the nation, but also the world..."

Before Five could give them a piece of his mind, the link cuts to black, another rolling power outage, yet again. He sits in the darkness and quietly waits for the generators to kick in.

Suddenly a sounds of thunder could be heard in the distance and he was unmoved by it, or the cheer of the people in the streets. When the power returned, it brought such little light, he still, paid no attention, too anything of it.

Five remained, so very still, sitting and staring at his own reflection and slowly, but surely. The world became, tempestuous and he could feel, this boiling and bubbling. Yet there was a gleam to the doom, he felt.

It submerges him, these waves of emotions, and they crush him against the rocks, taking his breath from him, leaving him at the bottom of darkness. Where he dwells in such bitter seas.

Drifting away into the loneliness of this fear, this anger and it was creeping into every corner of his mind, like a spider waving its web. Five cannot shake the feeling off, as it felt, as if, something or someone was watching him from a far, much like death, and it eyed him, like a snake that lays in wait for its prey, its meal.

Yet Five continued, to stares intently at his reflection, unaware of the time that had passed and the people had gone back into their holes. His expression on the surface of the black monitor screen was of such emptiness.

But that was a lie, as his fear was trying, its best to upset him and he cursed that he had come too feel such things, as fright. Without warning, Five had a smile on his tired lonely face.

Yet that too, was just another lie, and what a lie it was, this smile of his. For such a lie held him underneath, as it masked, a great sorrow that he wished, too bury and walk away from, never to see again, but he just couldn't let it go, it was unexplainable.

Because Five had known nothing, but lies and broken promises, such darkness had set a great fear into him and it told him coldly. "This world doesn't care, especially about you... so get use too being alone... Seeing the cruel world, this waste of potential and sheer disappointment."

Five tried to ignore, such mad thoughts, but it was far too late for that, he was alone in his only head, and that was scary enough. Yet he recalls, all the suffering moments. Because he had learnt, over time that he was born to face this world, all-alone and with every set back, he recall every hurt given.

Just like, his time in the water prison that vicious lie, that he was feed in Indian Hill. Such madness had befallen him there, such fabrications. What a place of torment it was. Which had numbed and robbed him, blind with sheer unhappiness.

Five didn't know the real world, till fate stepped in and changed all that. At the time, he didn't realize that he was just an experiment. Given a drug that was too mould him into, an obedient soldier, with no soul, no emotions and someone who could become a true monstrosity.

However, he was saved from being such a design, even though he had come close too reaching it. All because, Fish Mooney had freed the inmates of Indian Hill and in the disorder, Five was faced with such an overwhelming, choice.

Leave the only home, he had ever known and accept, the hardships of life that awaited him. In the unknown world, beyond the walls, or stay and meet certain death. Neither way, he felt that he was doomed.

The gravity of his situation, pulled at his heart, and tears rolled down his soulless face. This new found freedom shocked and scared him, for he had thought that he could not shed tears or feel such a thing, but here he was in the middle of it.

Five grabbed his chest, as it tightens and it sent him into discomfort. He never felt such a thing before, but that was wrong, for he had blocked it out of his mind. Because he was very much a fear of the truth, the dark truth.

Quickly Five's mind rushed him to a place of that would not leave a mark on his newly found soul. Five had not know such a pain, or remember the uncontrollable agony that he had endured in his short life, till he saw Bruce Wayne covered in gore and mayhem.

The memory of such a sight, reopened a deep wound that never really heal and he wish that he could dream of a happier moments but there had never been such a thing in his life, except the first time he step foot in Wayne Manor.

The floodgates failed Five and it all rushed back and made him sick to his stomach, and he coughed up vomit and blood, as he stared at the fearful realm of madness that forced him to see Bruce's ice-cold glare and he remembers his prison that bucket, that toilet, he had live in.

Yet Bruce's glare seemed, so very familiar, like he had seen it before and it hypnotized him and it brought him a sense of panic, much like his first steps of freedom that he'd sooner forget, if he could, but there is no forgetting that or those eyes that stare back.

The fear gripped Five, it choked the inhalation out of him and he kneeled before his memory of such freedom, that made him unable too move. Suddenly like a shot, the fog cleared to the memory of a mysterious young man, engulfed in light, so bright, it masked his appearance except for his grin.

The light that the stranger brought forth came with such a fierce heat and he came, face to face with the darkness, yet again like, he had been set a blaze in the morning dew, as if, called.

Five's fear swelled beyond his limits, yet he gazed at the horrifying grin, surely he was looking at death and he wanted nothing more, than too close his eyes and hide away, but he did not or could not, yet again for he was mesmerized by the ear to ear smile.

The alarms rang without remorse and the sound was too much, but without warning, they had stopped and confusion set in his mind, once again and he was in a deadfall of silence. This was the end of the line and he felt that there was no more time and no place for him anymore, it was the truth?

The stranger, then grabbed him and pulled him up from the cold, hard concrete floor and Five could hear again but this time. All he hears this time was the joyous laughter of the eerie person in front of him.

Before Five knew, what was going on, the young man said to him. " Come on, birdbrain, the fun has only just begun. There is nothing to lose in a world that is dead in the night." And before he knew it, the joyous individual had quickly disappeared out of sight like, a magician.

Gone into the hysteria and never did Five, ever hear his soul turning laughter again, not till he recalled it, from the back of his mind. At the time he didn't know if he'd hear such a laughter and if he did, surely the world would be in an uproar.

Five was left alone, once more, so very alone, as he recalls the alarms that rang. Once more in his head as thought and memory, which blurs together like paint. He ran with all his might, trying and falling just too escape the madness, but still he was, so very still, never did he move.

All Five knew and recalls was the eerie fellow's laughter, brought fear and anxiety but now. He viewed it like, as a lullaby that was sang to him, daring him to go on into the night.

Even though, he was faced with a sign that read, beware! Five had too move on, no matter what, even if, it was certain dead. He could not put his finger on it, or speak the words that sat at the tip of his tongue, this stressful memory crawls back into its dark cavern and Five's smile drifts away.

He was left wondering why, he had been smiling, at such a memory that could have been forgotten, like flowers in a brush fire. Was it the fear that put a smile on his face or maybe he was happy, but why? Was this some kind of new low, new form of sadness that put such an expression on him?

The smile had also brought back to life, such a forlorn memory that long since passed and was put to rest, yet here it was slowly rising like, the sun at dawn and the creatures of the night stared back at him, and his eyes were wide open, with fear that they would devour him come nightfall.

In the uncertainty of such deep thought, it occurs to Five that it was his sadness. It was Bruce Wayne, his reflection that stirred up such emotions in him and why, he had a smile on his face.

This sadness had a deep connection to Bruce, who was stuck on the other side and buried away in Arkham Asylum. Five's worst nightmare and the place where Indian Hill hide from the gaze of the world.

The anger Five felt was like an untamed fire that was abandoned and would set the world into disarray. This also symbolized his betrayal of Bruce and Selina. How he had sold them out to the falseness that he accepted, like it was an elixir that could cure all his ailments.

Five could have festered in the sadness, but it gives way to a flavour of serenity and it calls out to his mind. Then he remembers, the way Selina spoke of Bruce and he realizes that the smile had also been bitter sweet.

Selina's words and her voice rang much like, the alarms of that night, the others and him had escaped, their torment of a life. Her voice filled Five's mind like, she was speaking to him face to face and was trying to talk some sense, too him.

It was like, he could still see her and her tears, yet that was crazy and wishful thinking but nevertheless, he recalls what she had said too him.

"Bruce will find away to save everyone not just one; He'd take hit after hit, cut after cut...He'd search and spread himself too thin, like a shadow. Just to find the lost and he'd bleed for them...He'd go through fire to free them, even if, they were the flame and he'd take it all, like a dear friend...Bruce needs us, more then ever...Please come. I don't wanted to lose apart of myself and I know you feel the same...I know that Bruce matters too you."

In the remembrance of Selina's words, Five found comfort and it was fine and sweet. In his reflection, Five finally found the words that escaped him, when he first saw Bruce Wayne and Five remembers the hope and joy that he felt, when he first saw him.

How, he had hoped and wished that what crossed his mind, were true. As he had thought, he had seen a ray of hope within Bruce Wayne and Five desperately wanted to hold on to the joy of the sun that blazed in his heart.

For it was like, he had seen the sun for the very first time in his life, it brought tears of joy and it was like finding peace, at long last. Instead of struggling in a lie, all there ever was for Five was pure death and madness; never did he think that he could fathom, what light was or what life could be.

Till he saw it for himself, but to utter such a word, he dare not speak, for he did not have the courage to speak such a word, then and it left him with such deep darkness and regret.

Which left him in a world of hopelessness and he was back where he had started, alone. How, Five wanted too call out, which was now a lifetime ago, and he looks at his reflection. Finally, he could get off his chest, what he should have long ago and he said out loud with such heartache. "Brother."

Five's thoughts ran wild and he concluded that if, it was not for The Court of Owls' manipulation and seeing his weakness, his jealously. Then he could have had a brother and a loving home but all that was lost, so it seemed.

Yet there was still hope, Bruce still lives and so there is hope for redemption. After all, Bruce is the key to Gotham's salvation; he knew it in his heart, it was true.

He ponders, once more about his life and how it began in Arkham Asylum and would have ended there, if it were not for that odd and scary fellow, who had a contagious laughter that guided him out of his cage and went on his jolly way, into the dark of the city.

Five hangs silently in his though and memory, as screams and gunfire could be heard, echoing in the air, like it was common place and it brought forth a recollection that he thought he had forgotten, altogether but it was there like a ghost, still around after the fact.

The memory of pushing Selina Kyle out of a window and her falling to what should have been her death. Five breaths heavily like, he was going too cry or laugh. Because he hated himself for his past actions but at the time, he fooled himself into thinking that he didn't feel remorse or regret. Not until he had to live in a world without her and her radiance in it.

Five lost Selina, time after time and when he failed to go with her too save Bruce's soul, he had sealed their fates. He was overwhelmed by it all, but the realization that Selina was stuck in such a vicious cycle like, she was cursed to repeat history like, a sad story.

Angered him hit him a cross his face and deep in his thoughts, Five now sees, just how much he was the biggest fool that ever was. He had played right into their hands, The Court of Owls made such promises and he took the role, so seriously.

He had wished that he could wear such a mask, as Bruce Wayne but Selina saw right through it, and there was just no bull-shitting her, not when it came to him. Yet in the end, we all should have seen the storm coming, but we were all just so caught up in trivial matters.

All because Ra's al Ghul was pulling everyones strings and getting everything he ever wanted or needed, such as making a killing machine out of Bruce, like he was a gun for hire. Because Five could never stack up too the real thing, as he was just a clone, a lie and an illusion.

Five knew just how much he was a failure in Ra's al Ghul's eyes. For Five had learnt, far too late of Ra's al Ghul's madness. How he took it a pond himself, too change Bruce and Selina's fates. As he had the ability to see the future and to change it, as he saw fit.

It was said that The Demon's Head was a powerful force of manipulation, and it gave its user, a chance to change the state of a universe, thus the multiverse and it occurred like a butterfly effect.

The Demon's Head brought, a sense of order and rules, but this chance and change was said to effect the gifted. Yet it must have been a curse instead or madness to those who were gifted.

These individuals, could sense the randomness, the lack of order and predicability, and slowly they could bring disorder to The Demon's Head and it, could take shape in anything or anyone of their choosing.

It could be a picture or a card per se that seems so random, but holds a hidden meaning or message, like a letter written to a son or a dairy of a brother or maybe a fantastic plan.

Yet it seems like, bathos too the mere eye, till you looked deeper into the black mirror and really sae the pattern that emerges with the use of the Demon's Head and the evidence that time had changed.

It all seemed like; a dream of untold of horrors of a horrifying future, or maybe it was a bad memory, you sworn happened but in reality it never did happen. Which has you stuck in a paradox, and questioning the present moment.

As such a feeling that something was not right and fate had left you behind, spinning in all directions and you'd laugh at the top of your lungs as spaghettifaction takes effect, yet not at all, but the pain was very much real.

Yet you are stuck looking at a movie reel on a doomed night, this movie shows you the course of time and space. Thus crushing your heart into pieces, knowing that there's no stopping what was too come again, as you are trapped like a poor small creature in a blackhole.

Five brought forth a memory that seemed to be so forgotten, it seemed like it was false but it had such clarity. He wonders, if this memory could really be true and it was worrisome that such a thought brought, doubt and confusion that was shrouded like, a body ready for burial.

This falsehood seemed to real and the memory was of a tale that was told to him, or was it something he had read or made up? No, he had watched it? Or maybe, he had dreamt it? Nevertheless this recollection, made him feel unsettled and unmade.

It was as if, he had just discovered another of Dr. Hugo Strange's lies that was buried deep within his mind. It threatens him with a greater frustration that was quickly turning into super-insanity, which seemed like a slow decay of suffering that he didn't want to face alone.

Just before Five could taste the full effect of that kind of insanity, he first had too feel regret. The regret of letting Dr. Hugo Strange in and turning a blind eye, to this man's crimes against nature.

How could he have listen, too such a mess. Who'd promise them a helpful hand, but it was just another lie, yet again? Five punches, his knees and he thinks of how, he should have listen too Alfred and the others, instead of Dr. Hugo Strange.

Five then tries to shake this fear and doubt that clouds his head and tells him. "You are a failure, a soulless and heartless creature that is doomed too being just, a tool that is not needed."

Five then quietly tells himself, as he watches the tears run down his sallow face and he yells at the top of his lungs. "Why do I fail? Is this... all that I am?" His words floated in the current of his mind like, a bright light of an interrogator, who wants the truth and suddenly.

This short story, this tale that had been told to him long ago, but by whom, he could only guess that it was Dr. Hugo Strange, yet that seemed so off too him, somehow and he couldn't tell himself why?

As he could not recall, who really had told him such a tale, it just surfaced to the top of his mind, like blood in the water that had formed letters or pictures? That could be read off, the reflection of the moon and tell the reader of the future, or a haunting past, or perhaps a means to communicate.

This tale, this legend played like a movie in his head and the narrator spoke. "long ago, before anything was made. All there was in the beginning was darkness, then out of the blue there was a young girl, who lived on the moon by her lonesome and she was such a kind spirit, a most cheerful person."

"Her name was the same, as her home and she grow up to be, very lonely and sad, living in the coldness of the night sky. She spent her time wishing on a shooting star, night after, night."

"She had hopped, every time that her wish would come true, that someone would come and join her, but no one came, and so, she cried herself too sleep and dreamt of emptiness and nothing more."

"For so long had she been by herself, till she dreamt of a strange creature that said it was a spider, and the spider told her of the future. She'd help create, out from the old, and make it anew, as instructed, by the creator."

"She'd create with the help of the Sun, twins, brothers, who'd awake and ask her, what their purpose was. She hold them in her arms and sang to them, as they slept and she'd covers them in the essence of wisdom and knowledge, so that they could fulfill their duties, so that the next world could come into existence."

"The Twin Brothers would be known as, Joyous sound and Joyful Movement. Joyful Movement was tasked with placing his hands on the ground and holding the world together, till there was life a upon it."

"Joyous sound would later be known, as Echo and he was tasked with spreading his call throughout the lands and give everything sound, for all things echoes The Creator. When their duties were done and life was a upon the world, they'd resign to the poles and keep the circle going like good sons."

"Within Echo and Joyful Movement, there is wisdom and knowledge and this is what, they would bring to the next world. Echo would bring order to the world, when the world goes up side down. Joyous moment would give them a change to see the errors of their ways, in hope that they could save one another, as they had."

"These Brothers, they'd keep the world vibrating in tune with their song and dance, for joyous sound and joyous movement are needed for there to be life and continue to exist among the dimension of time and space."

"Spider then told her many things such as, she would weave a huge web and steal the light. So that the world need not fear, the darkness that there would be light and a new day will come."

"She'd weave another web, but this time it would catch, the bad dreams and they'd burn in the sunlight. The good dreams would be able to pass, so that the little ones would dream peacefully in the night and gain wisdom and knowledge, just as her sons"

"Spider spoke of a many great things and how she, the moon, would shine so bright in the nighttime sky with the fire of the sun that she reflects. Spider was now tired and needed to rest."

"After telling her of the future and Spider crawled into her midnight black hair and turned it white as snow. Spider would now, slept well and cozy in her long snow-white hair that glowed against the darkness of the night."

"The young girl, sat up and was curious, by such tales and she wondered, what it all meant, the message that she had received from Spider and she made an offering of medicine and thanked the creator for her little friend."

"The Moon had many other creatures now visit her, such as owl, cat, serpent and rabbit, they visit her within her dream world. Now she could dream of resonance; instead of emptiness and for the first time in a long time, she was happy."

"These creatures they became very much apart of her and her to them. They were her symbols and represented her, the moon, wisdom, protection, the night, water, healing and growth."

"Then one night, she had dreamt of someone and this someone, she happened a pond The Earth. She had found a young man, who was The Sun made into flesh and bone and he lay asleep in a cave, and was a sight for sore eyes he was."

"Never had she seen such a creature before, but alas, this encounter was only just a dream. Nevertheless she was curious about him; he was so beautiful as he slept, most peacefully and his dreams were full of life and sunshine, making him a most hopeful soul."

"When they meet in their dreamscape, what a strange and somehow fearsome, yet very sweet dream it was and from that moment on. They dreamt together and developed a bond of friendship that in time turned to endless love."

"The Moon loved The Earth like a mother for such a world had brought her, The Moon closer to he beloved The Sun and he loved her, such a wonderful dream come true, at long last? For both of them were found, by one another and they now had each other and no more did they feel lonely."

"The Moon was so very hopeful and very curious about the future, and what it held for them. So she went out of her way to ask, The Creator a simple question."What does the future have in store for the earth?""

The Creator then told her. "The end and you'll see it all, but the end is far away, so you must retreat to the dark side of the moon and only make small fire. when you hear my call and you'll peer into that fire and take the light with you."

"At the end and only then, may you go to The Earth and once there you'll, wait so very long for The sun and the both of you will watch and know the end and the beginning together."

The materializes of such a hidden tale had perplex Five's heart and mind, to which he had sign Selina and Bruce in such a sad fairytale, yet they didn't fit the roles. Only that they had weighed heavily on his heart and mind.

Five could not manage to form a clear thought, after such an ache that it felt like, growing pains and he tells himself penitently. "Is there no hope? Why must they be so doomed, so unhappy? Why did Bruce have to be come this dagger that Ra's al Ghul envisioned?"

"Why didn't I go with Selina, when I was given so many chances too? How is it that I could not tell, what was in my heart?I was sorry but instead, I let them down, again like, so many times before."

"All because, I felt that I was beyond saving and I didn't deserve their forgiveness. I just wanted to died in a quit place and not in some godforsaken war. I had enough of war and being a toy solider."

"Everything was taken from me, before I could even realize it and it was far too late. I could not catch on to what was in front of me...I was so numb...How could I ever...Why did she forgive me?"

Suddenly, Five calls to his mind, the disappointment in Selina's eyes, yet there was still a sense of hopefulness that resided in her voice. When she had said heartfelt, though Five didn't understand her words at the time.

"If, you have a change of heart, then tell him...What you could not, there is still time to do so." Selina's misty eyes, still weighs on his mind and he could see the sparkle of her tears that fell in the night-light, like it was yesterday and he regrets everything, he didn't do.

If only, he didn't let The Court of Olws control him, by listening to their weak promises, those weak lies that pit him against, the very people that could have saved him from his loneliness and sorrow.

Thinking back, at his decision to came back and help Selina with Bruce, it left such damage on his soul. Just thinking to the moment he stepped into the heart of Gotham city, he had found darkness and chaos, anew.

It was as if, he still sleeps in Arkham Asylum and this was nothing, but a terrible nightmare and it was far from over. The streets were filled with death and ruins, it was hell on earth and his eyes had seen a great deal of wretchedness. But nothing like this, and he was too late, did it really matter that he came back?

Gotham's in such a bleakness state that there is no hope at all, just pure darkness and the sun would never come again. There was no saving anyone, as everyone and everything fell into the same sinking feeling.

Riots and wars fermented in Gotham, there were gangs against rival gangs and they spilled their blood, like they were nobody at all. Yet that was not the worst, far from it. The worst was when families were against family, friends against friend and they killed one another, like they were common pests.

No one trusted anyone, let alone a stranger and in everybody's eyes, they were all just strange and strangers to one another in the madness of it all. Gotham had lost its way. The killing escalated to a whole new level and the killing spree was like, a fire sell, a riot and a war.

Furthermore it was The Daggers, whom were at the heart of it all. They were silent and deadly, too anyone foolish too entered into their dark path of death. But nothing prepared him for what happened next.

The Dagger were said to be immortal but like clockwork, they started to fall, one by one, like flies in a summer heat wave. Their hearts, failed them and they bleed out in the streets, except for one.

Bruce was the most cunning, even though he didn't kill as the others did. He was ruthless and a grave mistake, too think that you had any chance too escape him. When he was steps a head, which made him a force too fear. Though he fought, the urge to kill, you could see a killer, looking at you dead in the eyes. It was only a matter of time till he took a life.

Bruce's strong, stone-like will broke like, obsidian and all good things end. The streets were filled like, wine glasses with their sacrifice and their victims, as these Daggers were like, a cloud that had rained blood on the carnival of people.

It was amusing at first to Jeremiah Valeska, who was given the title of, The Clown Prince of Crime but everyone called him, The Joker. A name he loved and he was such the wild card. Especially when he was faced with Ra's al Ghul's only Dagger, his weapon of choice and they caused such gore and mayhem, it was a horror show.

The Joker had many ex-followers, who fought against him, because they had adored Jerome and they felt that Jeremiah Valeska was just a schmo, who stole Jerome's act but they too would fall, just as their beloved Jerome did.

The Joker had toyed with them, the ones that ran their mouths. By telling him that he couldn't compare to his darling of a brother, that he was just a liar and a disappointment. Little did they know, that The Joker was just playing with his prey.

He let them think that they had the upper hand, but he was inching them closer to their doom and he enjoy it very much that he let them use him like, a punching bag. Leaving him for died on the street, covered in a pool of his blood, yet that was all apart of his plan?

He had shown no real emotion or pain, just like the beatings Captain James Gordon give him, yet he knew that he got under their skin, all the same. The Joker gives them, this false sense of fulfillment and it lead them astray.

They had let their guards down and that was the moment, he'd blast them with a even more potent toxin that he hidden in a rose that was nicely tucked in his tuxedo pocket. This toxin he had tweaked and adjusted, just for them.

All the people that did him wrong and all it took was a simple look at him, face to face. They gasped as the toxin took affect and fear set in. The Joker's laugher caused such coldness that left them, running for the hills.

Thinking that they had escaped him, but that was a lie and he'd picked himself up and brushed his hair back. As he walked with an unearthly confidence, towards his victims, pleased to see their smiles, just as he had always wanted. Kind of like is brother's bloody smile, dead on the roof of the car.

The Joker would saver every moment of their bloody laughter, which were very much screams at the sight of him. In their desperate struggle to fight the contagious laughter that inched in their heads and rang like, a screeching echo in a cave of darkness and absolute madness.

His laughter haunted them, till they had departed from the world and they wore his face and they died like, their god had, with a smile. The Joker also had a great following and they had loved the chaos that he brought to the table.

As it filled them with glee and so they formed, The JokerZ. In his image yet secretly to a few, it was also a tribute to Jerome. In their eyes Jeremiah was also Jerome, and Jerome was Jeremiah, a perfect loop of the two and then that had drifted away into them just being, The Joker.

The Prince of Crime, a real Robin and a Hood too their watchful gleaming eyes that twinkled in the everlasting night and they cheered with such joy that they saw no sin, except a light at the end of the tunnel.

More and more of the gangs of Gotham had joined The Joker and his brew, yet there was a great deal that had apposed him still, and one such person was The Riddler and he attempted to mount a war against him.

The Joker was a prince, a king and a god to the ones that had followed without question and they killed and died for him. As they saw his madness as the Enteral Flame, The Sun and it brought the light to meet the darkness.

When The JokerZ became at odds with a great deal of gangs such, as The Mutants and The T's, whom also opposed The League of Shadows and the newly reformed Court of Owls, who had stepped out of Ra's al Ghul's shadow, just as The Joker and The Dagger had.

The Joker and his gangs cut their ties to Ra's al Ghul, who rose out of the ashes like, a great dragon or a phoenix, come back too life. As The Demon's Head had saved him by taking half of Barbara Kean's life, as her life was directly linked to Ra's now and if, one should die then the other would also.

Barbara was outraged that she had a man, ruling and holding her life, her heart in his hands and she wanted nothing more than to kill this man. So she set out to do the impossible, but his Dagger would not killed him.

Like he had done before, Barbara thought that if, Bruce would kill Ra's again, then her life would be hers alone. The dagger tricked like death would and without any remorse, Bruce forced her hand and she stabbed herself but, it didn't kill him and she laughed that he plan was ill fated.

Barbara bleed out in James Gordon's arms and she kissed him and told him, how much she had hated him so. If it were not for Selina, who had brought Dr. Leslie Tompkins with her then Barbara would have died there on the deadly streets of Gotham in The Narrows.

Bruce Wayne, The Dagger was cruel to the other so-called daggers, those who had not died. Wouldn't dare, upset him or even look him in the eyes, fear would set in like frostbit and he'd bring death, to the undead.

You could see that the drugs were working their magic and it made him more and more violent, too the point that he'd lost all control. The Joker had a ball at such a vision, he couldn't ask for more, but he could and he knew that there was more to come; the show had only just begun. The Joker smiled and told Selina.

"It appears that I should be calling you Catwoman...Ha, got nine lives? What a shame that you healed, so well from, such an injury, oh well...The Dagger here could cut your lives in half or maybe I'll just get lucky and you can just die already...Hahahahaha!"

The Joker fought for breath as he could not stop himself from laughing, so hard and it triggered Bruce and it made him weak to the drugs, which attacked his heart like, a virus and a poison.

Bruce grabs his chest and he breaths heavily with pain, as he screams like that of the night his parents were murdered, yet his scream was very much like that of a small woodland creature that screeches in the darkness, as if, it was set on fire and Bruce fell into place, just as The Joker had hoped.

The Dagger had surrendered to the world, the drug, the poison and he fell like a fallen angel and he became such a devil. Bruce was no more for he seemed so much like a burn victim, but his wounds were of the mind and now he had stained his hands in Selina's blood.

She had fought him too the better line, but before her end, she had tried to tell Bruce something of great importance. "I never told you..." But she could not tell him and it broke her heart to see her love, look so lifeless and forlorn.

Ra's al Ghul took her slaughtered remains and he was never seen again. The Joker laughed his heart out, till he saw Five step out of the dark and he struggled with seeing this individual that looked so much like Bruce Wayne and he shouted out in confusion and said.

"What the hell... Who are you? Hahaha..Oh, I see...Hahaha...Just like me, Huh?"

Alfred and James then cleaned The Joker's clock and rearranged him, surely he'd suffer greatly for what he had done, but Jerome's words still haunted James and he remembers them well. " Lawman or murderer." Captain James Gordon would struggle, yet manage to bring Jeremiah Valeska and Bruce Wayne to Arkham Asylum.

Five was in shock, looking on at the sight of it all and he finally remembered. The dark creature of his story, the one Dr. Hugo Strange wrote for him, the role of a lifetime, the harbinger of death, the Owl.

Which brings illness, agony and wickedness, the owl is an omen for it ultimately brings the slow torture of decay to the body, mind and soul. Who ever sees the owl at night, must pray, for death is in the air and may take your life or bring great misfortune to a love one of yours.

Five had a great feeling of ruin that sat at his core, as he looked at the wild creature that Bruce Wayne had become, but he also knew that this creature had the means to save Gotham and it lays in his heart.

Five's heart had beat faster, as the hair on the back of his neck stood still and a sound of a crush much likes of a terrible accident had knocked him out of his thought and memory.

He looks away from his reflection in order to grab his ears, as the breaking of glass still rings in them, but it was all in his head. Yet he saw the smoke and shattering glass, he then heard the sound of children, crying in the distance. It made, him feel like his head would explode from the sheer pressure of their cries.

Suddenly Five is free and he looks up to see, a man step out of the shadows, it was Ra's al Ghul and beside him was Selina. Five was so gad to see her alive, but that feeling drifts away as quickly, as it had appeared and he feels a chill in the air.

Selina rushes in and she draws her whip, it wraps around his neck and she pulled him from his chair. He struggles, yet makes a last-ditch effect for his blade, he cuts the whip and he quickly grabs his other blades and without hesitation. He throws them at Selina but she dodges them like, a graceful dancer.

Ra's al Ghul unsheathes his sword and Selina claws at Bruce and she digs her claws into an eye and rips it out and he feels nothing. He punches her in the face and she just smiles and licks the blood from her lips and she grabs him and makes him kneel.

Ra's al Ghul steps forward and he collects his blood that pours for his eye socket and Selina then exposes his chest. Ra's is about to cut it open. When suddenly, a shot echoes in the air and Ra's al Ghul drops his sword and it falls to his side, he grids his teeth, the pain but annoyances and his blood gushes out.

Selina had a look that could break you like, a mirror and she took the sword and with great speed, cuts the gun before Alfred could get a second shot in. The gun laid in two at her feet and she drives the sword forward, but Bruce stops her with his blade, saving Alfred from her sword.

Bruce comes at her with fury, she blocks yet again, It felt like; a lifetime had a lapsed, when a mob of people joined the battle lead by The Penguin. He draws his umbrella and opens fire, he is unable to hit his target, Ra's al Ghul. Because Selina threw a smoke grenade and they made their great escape.

The Penguin was beyond disappointed, his blood pressure, throw the roof and he adjust his monocle and himself, as he then tells Alfred and Bruce with such temper.

"Blast him that Ra's al Ghul! He'll pay for blinding me! It hasn't been easy having the use of just one eye and now you have gone and joined the club! Well boy, if, we lose that other eye of yours, we can kiss Gotham fucking good-bye then!"

The Penguin pulls out a kill switch and tells them that they have no choice but to go with him, into the sewers below.

Selina looks up at the moon and she hears explosions behind them, and they watch the old abandon movie theatre go up in fire and smoke. She then presents Ra's al Ghul with the eye, she had taken and he thanks her, and tells her that they must get going, time was of the essence.

* * *

Elsewhere, unrest hangs in the air, as thunder and lighting brings a wicked storm that pours heavily on Gotham and it enhances the disturbing quality of the structure. Which seems to have been ripped out of the gothic era, like it was a castle and within it's gates, lived the fallen; the lost and the cursed, this place Arkham Asylum.

Deep within its walls was a sense of dreadfulness, a place that the so-called caregivers hated, yet were grateful for. They felt like, they had been lead to their doom, yet blessed somehow.

All the while, they had a look of turmoil in their eyes and their hearts had blacken. Setting roots that took aim at these creatures that had awful names, such as Five and The Prince of Crime.

Their glaze fixated on the clone, such a man-made illness and on the other side, a horrifying force of nature. Jeremiah Valeska, who also had put the fear of god into them, Just as Five had.

Yet Dr. Jeremiah Arkham seemed, so much at home with such death and madness. While Captain James Gordon fought to stay with the awaken world, as he eyes Dr. Jeremiah Arkham with detestation.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham could careless, that Captain James Gordon was in such a suffering, situation and had a look that could kill, but was in no position to do so. Arkham was amused to the point that he smirks, knowing that he beat Gordon silly.

Madness brews in the room, like the storm outside, a godsend for there was hardly any drinkable water left, and it was harder, still too filter the tainted waters of Gotham. The poison that was being filtered by Wayne Enterprises and contained in vats that were be shipped to Ace Chemicals, till it could be safely disposed of.

These people that helps Dr. Jeremiah Arkham are stuck in an environment that is a nightmare and isolation, all the while trapped with demons of the afterlife.

The medical staff were so very glad yet horrified, when Dr. Jeremiah Arkham dismisses them, yet they showed their true colours as they rushed out, like bats out of hell. They never looked back, out of fear of being turned to pillars of salt, yet that was far too late, as they had a fate far worst then death but were blissfully unaware of it.

They had seen the unholy terror and struggle, they envision as devilish monsters of the night, who were similar yet not at all? One was a creature that lurks in the shadows of the night and feasts on blood.

Its victim is mesmerized and the last thing, they would see before their death are its teeth. This monster can only be killed by running a wooden stake through its heart or by sunlight.

A creature that was made by what they would be, a soulless creature that hangs in wait and has no reflection. Yet can only be seen at night and most would say that it was beautiful, but don't let that fool you, this undead creature as come to bring death.

Such a frightful creature has to be welcomed into the house; before it could bring its terror for it was a vampire, who was very much unholy and had a uncontrollable thirst. Yet they had knew the other gruesome creature, the longest and he was a wicked creature that also lurks in the night.

Such a creature was said to be the most ugly, tall and slim as the shadows themselves. This creature of the night, toys with its prey, and has a horrific smile, that shatters all in its wake and such a deadly creature can never feed its hunger.

The last thing its victims would see was its mesmerizing ear-to-ear smile and teeth, yet it's the eyes that would cut you down like, you were a mighty tree. Running a wooden stake through its flesh, taking its heart and casting it into a holy fire, can only kill this creature and put the poor lost soul too rest.

Such a wicked creature was made during hunting season, at twilight. This poor lost soul had to idea that they ended up in the path of the stag, covered in wounds and rotting flesh.

Yet was very much alive and had set misfortunate, upon the poor lost soul, who's caught in its deadly gaze. It was as if, peering at a mirror and faced with a horrible future of things to come.

The poor soul had no chance, and the undead creature lures them with its haunting eyes, and learns of where their home had been. The poor lost soul, smiles with such joy, as they converse with such a wicked creature, as they are being tricked into thinking that they were saved, by a beloved family member or dearest friend.

Tricked, the poor soul is brought home by such a vile creature and is told that a warm meal waits. Which would be their heart, as in their home, for the heart is where the home is, and home sweet home, is such a treat.

The vile creature had finally found, a lovely home to torment and bring death upon the family, which brings a smile to their rotting face and soul. The undead creature burns away and covers its victim in grime and ash.

The poor lost soul, then is found by its family at the break of dawn. The poor soul had fallen gravely ill, and is then bedridden. Doomed to never wake up from their nightmare, their hell and suffering.

All the while, their loving family tries to nurse them back too health, but its too late, madness had set root in their heart and soul. The poor family would not have the time to grieve, when the dead rises in the night, killing them in their sleep and feasting on their hearts.

The newly undead creature, then wastes no time and sets the house on fire. The undead creature emerges from the inferno to watch, the home burns down to the ground. As a ghostly howl of echoing laughter, fills the night air with their coldness, for winter had come to these lands, at long last, death had arrived.

The vile creature is strike with a great pain of hunger and thirst. Then the living dead sets its sights, on the village that had housed, their once beloved and forgotten home. Now the village is doomed, to this madness and great sickness, that now befalls them.

The harshness of the bitter winter is at hand; the battle has only just begun but come spring, nothing is left. But the undead stag, its human form wears the blacken rugs of their family and victims.

The dark figure, so thin, yet so huge that it cannot be seen, when walking, but its chill could be felt. If you come face to face with such a nightmare of neither living nor dead, you will become one, yourself. The walking curse, doomed to repeat the tragic cycle, come again, much like war and despair.

The undead stag, is also called, the cannibal clown or The Wendigo. Such a vile creature is never talked about during winter, nor is named at such a time, for such speak, shall make one appear in front of you. The dead of winter, the chill in the wind, the bitter cold, the deadly gaze and good for nothing smile of all good things dead in the world. hopelessness.

Such nightmares and creatures, live on the outskirts hidden away, underground in the darkness, their domain. Theses creatures are the sleepless and undead that are doomed to eat the flesh and blood of the living.

Who's eyes have an eerily glow in the dark atmosphere and they gave an awful screeching, and laughter that echoes in the night. Such fright leaves no hope, just death and madness.

* * *

Captain James Gordon had found himself, hopelessly trapped deeper within the walls of Arkham Asylum. Just as the two, who sleep in the dead of night? Gordon's eyes grow heavy and he cannot afford this and he battles himself to stay awake in such madness, but it was no use.

He was lead astray and he was so very aware of it, yet he did nothing to stop it, and now it's too late. Dr. Jeremiah Arkham feed The Captain lies, one after another, like a home cooked meal on a cold winter's night.

These lies, Jerome Valeska is alive and well, trapped within Arkham Asylum, where he belongs. Five is just a dying clone of Bruce Wayne, who could never see the light of day and will die, like the lab rat he is, and what well- crafted lies, and such entertainment?

However, Captain James Gordon at times could remember the truth, especially when he was near the so called clone. The cold truth, he was the one that killed Jerome Valeska and he remembers it all from time to time.

How, Jerome Valeska put on such a show, one after another and the main attraction was always Bruce Wayne, then came along his brother Jeremiah. Jerome relished every moment, yet something was off; there was no spark, no joy and no fun, it was as if, something or someone was missing and that is why, he made Gordon kill him.

No one could see what, he was up too, as he was an artist, after all and his work was unfinished, never did Captain James Gordon figure out, what he was up too. Jerome had alway wanted to recreate a certain legend, one he had heard long ago.

But it took time and a lot of work to put together, as Jerome casted his brother and himself as the leads of the show, unbeknownst to Jeremiah, who in time felt like, he was the star for the show.

Jerome tried to set Jeremiah on fire, but he had failed and Jeremiah slipped away from him. Then many years later Jerome saw, Bruce Wayne in the newspapers and he knew that Bruce Wayne could play the part, kind of, it could work he thought.

Jerome had a feeling and he didn't understand it much, only that it was there and need not be explained and so, the show was back on track. In the play, he needed to make Bruce Wayne suffer and melt him away, and out of that suffering, Bruce Wayne's true nature would rise, just like in the legend, but that didn't work out either as he had escaped him, time after time.

So, Jerome went back to the drawing table, then out of the blue, it hit him. He needed his brother, Jeremiah to be the lead, not him and so, Jerome sent Jeremiah to make-up and set him into the flames of madness, which made Jeremiah think that Bruce Wayne was he, his darling brother, Jerome.

Jeremiah became the flames that had become, so very lost in the darkness and there was no one that could find him, except for the small creature Bruce Wayne and he'd melt away into the flames of Jeremiah.

This is why, Jerome happily took a bullet and fell to his demise; his favourite story and legend was about to come too life, and it's a shame that he could not live to see it in the end.

James struggles to free himself, from sleep but his heart tells him that his at death's gate. Yet James so very much wishes that he could keep a watch on Dr. Jeremiah Arkham. Who was closing in on the sleeping souls, he was undaunted in his task to spread this poison that eats at them in their slumber, like an acid or a fire?

The drugs in their bodies made Dr. Jeremiah Arkham believe that he had all the control in the universe and he'd use it too his advantage. He moves about with such a haunting sway in his step that put a smile on his face, like he had just, hit the jackpot. He checks on Bruce and Jeremiah like, a cheater with cards up, his sleeves.

This game of war had only, just begun and so he checks his price possessions, and he takes extra care with Jeremiah Valeska. Dr. Jeremiah Arkham waves his flashlight in Jeremiah's eyes but there is no response, for that was Gordon's sucker punch, which was to blame.

Little did Gordon know that this man, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham had been at Paul Cicero's side and was tasked with watching his sons, especially Jerome? Yet he failed in that regard but he believes that he did not, for Jerome still lives on, in his work and his masterpieces, they were right before the doctor's eyes.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham knew, all about the twin's obsessions and it fascinated him that Jerome Valeska had a real liking and gravitation towards tales, fables and legends. Maybe it had brush off on him, like paint to canvas and he recalls.

How Jerome had wished or hinted that his brother and him were like Thanatos and Hypnos, the twins, Death and Sleep. Maybe it was a self-fulfilling prophecy or mere coincidence.

There were so many stories that Jerome told and tried to bring to life like, a mad scientist and now, it seems that Jerome brought this tale to life, it only took a bullet to do it. Jeremiah Valeska and Bruce Wayne ,now fit the roles of Death and Sleep, so very well, like a glove.

All except one facet, they were not blood. This illness gripped Jerome in the end and this burden was passed down to his brother like, an infection or virus and it eats at him, and his heart like, he was the main course.

Jeremiah Valeska gravitated to science and mathematics, as he loved creating, fixing and building. He was compelled to making mazes, especially in fact. It was like; he was secretly trying to trap his brother in his mazes?

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham knew that Jeremiah was out there living in fear of his brother, trapped and locked up like, a prisoner of war. Some part of him had also enjoyed, his brother's stories, read them all, like they were morsels of food too enjoy, in his cage.

Stories, all about monsters, gods and legends. Its kind of funny that Jeremiah Valeska designed mazes, if you thought about it for a second. This madness of theirs made them a danger to all, as this madness of theirs was like a flame.

They dwelled in their lonely dark existence, for so very long that it was leading to madness no matter what. Because they never saw the light! How could they, when they are the scorching sun? Get to close to the sun and it would burn you alive.

In some ways the twins didn't fall from the old tree, as their father told many tall tales and if, you paid any attention, their father. Did tell the truth; it only took the individual to read between the lies.

Paul Cicero told many lies over the years and happily disguised them as fortunes of the future, all for the spectacle. He was cold hearted, yet there were moments that you would think otherwise.

He had an air of anonymity that surrounded him yet somehow, he was so renowned. There were many sides to Paul Cicero and you could never tell, if any of it was true, yet you'd trust him.

The Blind Fortuneteller's act took place in the heart of a funhouse, the labyrinth of mirrors. You'd think, he was trapped; yet it was the other way around. Now its clear, why the twins were the way they are.

Paul Cicero loved to talk about mirrors and he could talk about them from sunrise to nightfall, as if they were his flesh and blood. He was a contradiction, he could be so cruel yet not at all and maybe that was the scariest part about him.

The Blind fortuneteller said that the gates to the soul were held in the eyes, for the eyes are the mirrors and he said that he could see the past and future by using the mirrors. The way he went on about mirrors, it was his obsession and he talked all about the mirror.

How they were implied that they could imprison souls and were sometimes called soul stealers. During illness or sleep, all the mirrors in the house were covered. So that if, the soul wonders away in sleep or death then the soul would not get trapped within the mirror and lose their way home or to the great beyond.

Thus, the mirror could be seen as the root cause of a haunting and some of the signs that you are being haunted were pain, depression and deep scratches on the body, mind and soul.

Other times Paul Cicero spoke, that peeking into the mirror, you might catch sight of a shadow person that wears a hat in the style much like a wide brim fedora and has a long coat, or it could be a huge figure that wears a long cloak. These shadow figures may cause great fear and panic, yet there are some that are not afraid, what so ever.

He spoke of how, mirrors were used to find out, if a person had become, a creature of the night for such a creature has no reflection. Paul Cicero said that most people think a mirror's only purpose is to see, ones beauty or flaws but they're are more then that.

A fortuneteller could use the mirror and if they saw themselves with hollow eyes and a sickly pale refection, then life was not something to look forward too but if they saw themselves healthy, then life would be worth living.

Other methods of fortunetelling would have the fortuneteller, ask for an offering of blood and they place the blood in a dish of water that captured the reflection of the moon. The fortuneteller would then read the writings of blood.

Paul Cicero believed he was one such person, who could see the fortunes in the mirrors and he said.

"The mirror is my instrument and I'm a physician, just as it was in a past life. My past life, I was stuck in the madness of the black plague and I went to work, I wore a death mask."

"When I was in the presence of my patients and I would pull out my mirror to see if, the patients had died or still suffers. I was driven to the unsolvable like a homicide detective on a cold case, but it was too late, death was perched above and that life had come to an end."

Paul Cicero talked and talked about the mirror and the myths that surrounded them he said. "No matter, where you go on god's green earth, mirrors are seen as portals to other worlds and dimensions."

The old man spoke that there were so many stories of mirrors across the world, such as the sun and the moon mirrors of The Far East. In mesoamerica cultures, mirrors were associated with the world, spiders, eyes and faces, surface of water, jade, fiery hearth, fire and its symbol was in the form of flowers, the sun and caves the entrance of the underworld.

The obsidian mirror was known as the talking stone, it could reflect images and fates. A smoking obsidian mirror was strongly connected to flames, luminosity, divine breath, music and speech.

It could talk with humans by casting back sound in the form of an echo and reflect images in the form of smoke and mirrors. In the culture of the Lakota there is the ultimate mirror, a kind of sacred clown, The Heyoka.

Though loved or reviled, The Heyoka is of the rise, the fall and renewal. They move opposite, as a mirror does, laughs when faced with sadness. They remind the people of the great mystery, which is beyond good and evil and they walk in the bloody footsteps of their predecessors.

The sacred clown is talented at unifying joy with pain, their blur lines and they launch paradox. They ask the hard questions, Why? They remind us not to stay on the same old path but to hold the twist and turns of life, so that you can discover a new path and take courage that is needed to altar and overcome.

They set the unfree, free, they understand the duality of nature and they help the best that they know how. Paul Cicero spoke very highly of mirrors and said that they give him a chance to see, what he could not.

He could tell you, all that you ever wished to hear, or he'd tell you, the truth and it would hurt like hell. Everyone who dared, enter his house wished that they had not, as they swore he was the devil in the flesh.

Fear would take them and their tears would fade as laughter set in and they'd accepted, what was to come, as there is no hiding from the truth. This man, who was blind as a bat, but would see, what you had hide for so long, and he'd have the last laugh.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham set his eyes a pond Jeremiah Valeska and Bruce Wayne and he remembers Paul Cicero's tall tale.


	9. In the world that is burning

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham finally saw the world for what it truly was, and to think that The Blind Fortuneteller described it to a tea, the fiery devastation that brought Gotham to a Dark Age and he recalls it, so very well.

The struggle to reach the end of that dark and unending tunnel that left him, sick and hollow, just as the one's before him. Looking into the dark abyss, the echo in his head was louder than ever before.

He could not simply ignore it, any longer. The bewildering words of such an unfathomable man, who promised such possibilities of things, too come and boy did he not disappoint in that regard.

The old man's words stuck with Jeremiah like, a departed soul, who was cursed with being stuck in an undying loop of his own making, till the end of time. The haunting voice rings in Jeremiah's mind, to the point that nothing else mattered in that moment, except the madness of it all, and there was no hiding or masking it, anymore.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham had come to realize that he was trapped within a deadly game of cat and mouse. Where the end and the beginning had met at the rise and fall of one another, and so the wicket gate had appeared just like, cards on a poker table.

A reaction of a set of events had brought fourth, an opportunity to rise a chance, as it seemed to Dr. Jeremiah Arkham that he was given a winning combination to take the house, he had dreamt of taking, oh so long ago.

After all he had paid to see the show, to be a witness to such entertainment, between such forces. The only thing stopping him from winning, this game against the devil was Ra's al Ghul; he had burnt away into flames of death's dagger.

For a time Ra's al Ghul was thought long gone, except that he was not? For he had seemed to be truly cursed like, the living dead, except that he was disappointed. Ra's al Ghul seemed like that of the cat in the box, which was a paradox, neither dead nor living, till someone looked into the box and found out, which he was.

Paul Cicero had warned Dr. Jeremiah Arkham that a shadow demon would come and bring the end of days with him. This man would gain all the means to see in the underworld, so that he maybe, free from death's cruel grip.

For Ra's al Ghul had also wished to take the cup and gain everlasting life, for himself and himself alone. For The Demon's Head had shown him, all that he would need to conquer and rule the hearts of mankind. So that he may bring them everlasting war, order and control.

Ra's al Ghul had a vision, a very dark vision to rule, as King of Earth, but it was out of view that is until he had met, The Death Bat. Ra's al Ghul had seen great wars waged, only for a great big fall, leaving a vacuum and the cycle began again.

Still he stood by flames and ash, for he was blessed with the knowledge of The Lazarus Pit. He had brought death with fire and watched them. all melt away, as if, acid was casted into their faces, as he walked over there died and dying bodies beneath him.

Only then, did Ra's al Ghul wished to rule as death does, over life, as a true immortal. His crazy plan was in sight, finally, yet there was always something or someone in the way, blocking him like a shield or a smile.

For as long as he could remember, divided and conquer had been his game and his knowledge, except that it was not? Rumour had it, that there was another, whom was the true master and was on a whole different level. Only a small hand full, could care to dream of catching s glimpse of true madness.

Yet Dr. Jeremiah Arkham did not pay attention to the old man's words. Till it was far too late, as his boredom and disappointment had gotten the better of him, till Paul Cicero's tall tale, slowly came into view and his true colours were exposed.

Right before his very eyes like, the circus at night, and still Dr. Jeremiah Arkham hears, the echoes of Paul Cicero. As if, just yesterday and the here and now, unnatural was his voice.

Which had spoken to him, like it was still calling him from out of the grave. It was as if, he had known Paul Cicero from another lifetime that had faded from existence, like the blind old man was from other dimensions, timelines and world lines.

Yet somehow remembered, like a telephone number that should have been lost. But it seemed that nothing is truly lost forever, just misplaced in such a chaotic mess. Except for the janitor that thrives in such messes, and Paul Cicero's voice still rings, inside the doctor's head and such a voice in the attic said.

"A set of matches, is all this shadow demon needs to strike a heart and there is no escaping, the never ending, why?"

Suddenly Dr. Jeremiah Arkham's train of though, shifted back to Captain James Gordon, who was faltering between sleep and death itself, and he smiles. Knowing that he was certain, that he had the right people now, and he could finally see, the doorway, the might oak, the round table and the unsung hero of this tall tale, as foretold.

Dr Jeremiah Arkham wonders, what he was in for, now that he could play his card game with the devil and if, he won, he'd hit the jackpot and it would rain gold. Leaving Gotham in the cold, yet again, but this time Gotham would be his and his alone.

As he'd finally be The King of the Castle, and rule Gotham, as it should have been, all along. Finally he felt, lucky for a change, knowing that he was given the wild cards, to do some real damage or real good, but it wasn't really up to him, now was it?

Maybe he knew, but doesn't care, as long as he could say that he reclaimed Arkham Asylum, like he had wished all this time. Everything, right up to the stars aligning, just as foretold, except that Dr. Jeremiah Arkham didn't do it himself, not one bit.

After all his merely apart of the audience to the show, yet lucky enough to be at the right time and the right place. So that he could participate in such an act, as this, so that the days of Judgement could be passed with a song and dance.

As Gotham was occupied with the state of fear that gripped and tied them up like, they were flies stuck to a web, whose insides would liquefy, as the spider loves to drink its victim's dry.

So heavy is the heart, the insanity of the world and gone are the happy days of old, till there is only blame and division from far and wide. A new order, that spreads just like a chain of lies and invisible to the eye.

How close the worlds are from one another, as they are overlapping and synchronicities of them are uncanny. It was as if, worlds collided and ended, as others begin and were made anew.

All because the black mirror had appeared, like faces of beloved souls found, yet never held or sang too. Only the lonely stay, too afraid to go on into the gate of heaven and so they stay in hell, stuck in dark matter of illusions.

Sinking into the ground that is the snake's mouth, who waits to eat them whole, like a juicy rabbit? As if, the black mirror was a blackhole through space and time or the gate that led to the heart of soulmates, who were in the world that is burning, as judgement had befallen them and they were now.

Trapped beyond the veil, as one lives in a dream come true, where the other deals with a life that turned into a nightmare, both doomed to be apart. Yet they were unknowingly, known to one another, but only, as dream that played out like their lives were day and night.

Just like, a role of a lifetime, or a film for the masses to enjoy, except to the one's that echoes the tale. The madness the death and the dream that turns the worlds to dust, for they have been uncaged, so they could step into the light and into the night.

Yet if, they did meet and not just in a requiem, then salvation was possible. But if, they did not find one another, then destruction awaits them all and fear would grip the world that they made their home.

Everything and everyone, including them would be a prisoner of the new system and order, fallen one by one, as the end that was promised had arrived and they were doomed to watch the world burn yet again.

For time and space were broken like, a heart that would not know love, true love. The kind of love that made you, whole, warm, sound and saved. In this new world order, true love would just be heartache, falsehood and gone like pages torn out of a book that held the secrets and equation of time and space.

The stories would be just make-believe, even what was set in stone would seem like a tall tale in every language. Nothing would be right, but upside-down like, a mirror universe and everything would not be as it was, not till Judgement Day.

This illusion that rewrites, is nothing but death and sorrow like, an endless winter that can never become spring again, only one can undo. What had been done, for time and space have been broken beyond repair, as the heart is without love and trust?

There is only a falseness of darkness and light, a matrix that blinds us all into a strange reaction, to a hologram that overhauls reality. To benefit one, by erasing their one true foe and dearest friend, now that they're gone, everything and everyone is misplaced.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham believed, his own lies that he was a blessing but deep down, he knew that he was the opposite, his action spoke loud and clear. What he did to his patients could only be called, demonic in nature.

The more he pushed them into madness that was isolation, the more violent they became. The more he played god, the more they became wicked and vile, such brainwashing had ruin them all.

Yet that was not the worst, his experiment with the laughing sickness, had brought out the worst in him. As he watch them suffer with such fits of uncontrollable laughter. When he had agreed to treat Jerome Valeska, the child showed promising signs that he was the one that could further his research.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham had learnt of Jerome's obsessions with Native American folklore and he was able to make the child. Suffer from Wendigo Psychosis, Which was thought to be a culture-bound syndrome.

In some indigenous communities an insatiable greed could also be seen as a demonstration of the Wendigo psychosis, along with environmental destruction. The symptoms were an intense craving for human flesh, along with a great fear that they would become a cannibal.

With that planted in Jerome's young and shattered mind, all could be done, and anything was possible, even getting what was his and his alone. Finally, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham was able to see the light that paved a path, so that he could continue his pursue of a bioweapon.

One that could bring Gotham to there knees and they'd kneel before him like a god. Surely they'd be afraid of the dark, but that would only lead to being disappointed, and stuck in acid rain. Dr. Jeremiah Arkham knew, such disdain in his heart that he wished, everyone would feel, someway or another, and by god did they ever.

Paul Cicero had discovered the doctor's plans, and he paid him a visit that crippled him with fear, true fear. The blind old man was indeed gifted with foresight, and was not just some con man, circus freak and entertainer.

Paul Cicero knew that the treatments that Jerome suffered greatly in were also killing him, yet he was cold and unmoved, like he had his own plans. At the time Paul Cicero, just told the doctor that Jerome was just a poor kid that had terrible luck, and he was his just a guardian, but he wouldn't called it that, more like a custodian, at best, who's job was to clear the waste of space.

Yet the truth was that The Blind Fortuneteller had smoked out, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, who would come to aid and his cause. As time went on Dr. Jeremiah Arkham learnt the hard way, that Paul Cicero was Jerome's father and so did Jerome for that mattered, but the thing was that seemed off, way off, by a long shot or two.

Jerome Valeska had set the stage and he was steps ahead of the game, as he had known such madness, of knowing such things that no one should comprehend ever. Yet Jerome knew that luck was on his side, and not just any kind of luck but, lady luck and she had sent him, the unsung hero of this story and he would choice, what to do with the gun.

Paul Cicero did fooled Dr. Jeremiah Arkham into thinking that he knew what he was doing. But the thing was that Paul Cicero was waiting for his reaction, but there was just compliance and that was all that he needed of him.

Paul Cicero then, gives Dr. Jeremiah Arkham the black mirror and told him to help his son, now that he had, what he needed of Jerome. Though Jerome would forget his ordeal, he would not forget that he dances in the pale moonlight of the wasting city of Gotham.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham laughs, now that he could see, what was truly put in front of him and still he'd hate, but this time he'd get the joke. In the back of his mind, he sees a familiar face that he should have helped more and he said to him.

"Be entertained, for I brought it all, death, madness, glitter and confetti. I fixed this game of lonely hearts, so buckle in and enjoy the ride, kid." Dr. Jeremiah Arkham laughs at the thought that flew around in his head, as he puts the pieces together.

Jerome Valeska was insane for putting up such an act, but he was also an evil genius for it. Yet that title could have been anyone in Gotham, even Captain James Gordon the leading light that shined, just as the devil had once before.

As Jerome and Jeremiah Valeska had been kind and sweet but now, just as evil as the doctor's experiments were. Dr. Jeremiah Arkham laughs quietly at the thought that The Court of Owls had stolen all his life's work.

When in fact they barely scratched the surface of the water, let alone what Gotham held hidden out of sight. There was indeed a war being waged here for the souls of mankind, good vs. evil, yet it was too crazy to believe.

Till Gotham saw hell first hand, as Captain James Gordon got to sit shotgun, the lucky bastard that was so green, but fate is a strange thing. It would seem that Captain James Gordon was tied to Gotham in such away, that he was at the beginning and at the end, much like Paul Cicero was.

The tragedy that had unfold that dark night in the alleyway and then on the rooftop of that bad and gloomy day, that asked a simple question to Captain James Gordon. "Lawman or murderer?"

Jerome Valeska had died and his dear brother, Jeremiah was left in a world that is burning, such a lost soul and his heart oozes poison and death. Which in turn, corrupts like a strong acid or a cancer and there is nothing he would do to stop it. Except too laugh, at it all, while welcoming tragedy like, a warrior on a battlefield.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham calls to his mind, his promise, his lie, and his life's work that made it all possible but it was not his doing, it was Paul Cicero's. The unearthly voice had finally reached into him and he could feel his breath, slowing and his chest tightening, finally he said in a weak and bitter matter.

" I did as you said, I watched, what was dearest and I let him do as he had wished and he got himself, killed and I brought his killer Captain James Gordon to Fifth and Cicero, just as you had foretold."

James was perplexed at what Dr. Jeremiah Arkham was talking on about, as his heart was ripping apart like, he was shot in the chest and he hears an echo of gunfire in a hail of laughter. He catches sight of the ash and rowan trees that stood before him like, shadow figures in the dark.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham walks out of James's view and he felt like, a damaged soul lost in limbo. An eternity had elapsed and just when James thought that his nightmare was all but forgotten.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham had step back into the light and he held on to something flat and covered with fabric. He reveals it to James, what was hidden, a mirror but not just any mirror, it was made of obsidian, dark as can be yet shined with all the glory of the sun.

James could see the crazy in his eyes and a deep darkness that filled the air like, it was death itself and it took ahold of him. Little did he knew that Haly's Circus, hidden gem had tricked Dr. Jeremiah Arkham? The Blind Fortuneteller, The Turquoise Stone, Paul Cicero was not, who he seemed?

All Dr. Jeremiah Arkham had ever remembered was Cicero's voice and what he had said to him in that funhouse of his. Which put the fear of god into Jeremiah's soul but instead of fear it was replaced with him forgetting the whole ordeal, except for the awful feelings, he had felt and still does.

He chalks it all up, as a foolish nightmare; the illness of his family that he hoped; he would never inherit but feared he had. All because of this devil of a man, Paul Cicero, who had told him, all he ever wished too hear.

Deep in the doctor's heart, he had known it was all a lie, a self-fulfiling prophecy but he let himself be tricked. Just too suppress the boredom that was driving him up the wall, like a fish in a fishbowl, around and around he goes, lost in a bitterness and sorrow.

The Blind Fortuneteller had brought him into the darkness of his world, his realm and he said to Jeremiah. "The Arkham name will be restored and Arkham will rule again, the people will know the name and come to fear and adore it."

When Dr. Jeremiah first stepped foot, in front of the funhouse, he knew right then and there, the devil himself awaited him. His heart told him that he was going to die there, yet he continued forward into the darkness. Looking back now, he wonders, if his encounter was just the madness coming too the surface and none of this was real but it was real, wasn't it?

Jeremiah questioned everything from that point on, but he could not do a damn thing. It was not his place or time to do so, for he had promised Paul Cicero that he'd do as he was told.

Now that he could see, Paul Cicero in a new light, he hated him so, yet there was still apart of him that would always follow and trust him, though he didn't know why? Maybe it had something to do with him feeling like, he was in the presence of an old friend, a great warrior and a hero of mankind, like he was Heracles.

Deep down he knew that they were not friends, just enemies and his fate had been painted on him like, darkness and he was up for slaughter, it was only a matter of when and how.

Gotham has no heroes, or a true king to shield them from danger. Instead there is no such luck and what should have been protected like; family ties that would make the community strong, are all but forgotten like, yesterday's news.

The children are and were the key to a healthy happy village and home. Children, all children need a place to grow, so that they could grow up to be, the hero that the people need for a bright and hopeful future. Yet that is hopelessly lost, the children have grown and Gotham is still not a place yo raise a family, but what is, in this day and age?

For most, all was taking away and they would destroy anything that resembles, what they had lost, for now they wish that they never known, love. For the rest, they had never known, what family or friends were, let alone love.

For them, they wish to destroy, what they do not understand and they would come to fear, love. If, there is no love, there is no sadness or pain, therefore there is no need to care and in turn.

The lie that they had told themselves is the truth and all is lost and forgotten like a bad day. An old distant voice of such a lost soul could be heard in the far past, as he had said long ago.

"There are no heroes; no love or warmth to keep me save and sound, for hope and faith is my true enemy! I love... what I hate and I hate... what I have lost and I'll never move again! yet, the one that can bring back the light is where you least expect like, The Brown Squirrel. But that is all, just a fairytale and not real, not ever could it be real...right"

In such thoughts, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham's memory was sparked and rekindled, along with the legends that Jerome Valeska loved with all his heart. These Legends had come from the tribes of The Americas, and these one's that he recalls like an echo of the distant past was all Jerome had ever talked about.

When Jerome was just as, all had been, innocence and full of dreams and hopes, but there was darkness and a sickness that took ahold like, an endless loop. For it was Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, who placed such wickedness upon him and that he could never change, what he had done to him. All he could do was hear the past speak, as if, the child was there to tell the legend, himself and he said to him.

* * *

"Long ago The sun had come to close to the ground and got stuck in a tree and the more he tried to break free the more he was stuck and so dawn never came."

"At first all the birds and animals didn't realized that nightfall had stayed far too long. So they awoke to darkness and so they went back to sleep, other animals, who liked to hunt like, The Owl and The Panther were all glad to stay out in the darkness and keep hunting."

"So much time had passed and all the bird and animals became worried and they gathered in the dark and held council." "The Eagle said." "The Sun has gotten lost." "The Bear then said." "We must go out and find him."

"They searched for the sun, everywhere from the deep forest to the lakes and even the caves with no luck. "Then a tiny woodland creature, The Brown Squirrel spoke out and he said. "Maybe he is stuck in a tree!"

"The tiny creature went tree to tree, till he saw the pale light of the sun, which had become so very weak and tired." "The Sun said." "Help me little brother!" "The Brown Squirrel came close and it was hot yet he chewed the branches."

"Slowly The Sun was being freed but the more branches The Brown Squirrel chewed, the brighter The Sun became." "The Brown Squirrel said." "I must stop! My fur turned black." "The Sun said." "Help Me! Don't Stop!"

"The tiny poor creature worked hard but it was so very hot and bright and he said to The Sun." "My tail has gone, burnt away it did, I can't do any more!" Sun said. "Help me, soon I'd be free!"

"So Brown Squirrel worked hard but The Sun was far from free and it was extremely hot and much more brighter and The Brown Squirrel said." "I'm Blind, I must stop." "Sun said." "Just a little more now and I would be free."

"The Sun rose up into the sky and dawn had come again, everyone was glad. All but The Brown Squirrel for his tail burnt away and what fur he had, was blackened and he was blind by the sun's brightness; the heat melted his skin and stretched it out. The tiny creature was stuck in the tree."

"Sun looked down at the poor creature, now stuck and had suffered greatly too save him and he said to the tiny creature. "Little brother, you saved me and I will give you something, is there anything that you always wanted?"

"The Brown Squirrel said." "I've always wanted too fly but now...I can't for I'm Blind and have no tail." "Sun smiled and said." "Little brother, from now on you will fly better than the birds."

"Because you came too close to me, my light and it will always be too bright but you'll see in the dark and you'll sleep when I'm out and wake when I say good bye to the world each evening."

"The tiny creature was no more; he dropped from, the tree and spread his leathery wings. No more did he miss his tail or his brown fur, for now he knew when the night came it was his time. Though he'd be feared by most for being the dark night, he'd still hold The Joy of The Sun in his heart for he was The Bat."

Jerome then said. "This is how The Bat came in to be; it had cost him everything, in order too save The Sun, so that the world would see the light had come again. It was said that The Bat would find all that was lost in the night, for the night time was his time to shine."

Jerome took a quick break, but continued once again and he said. "The Bat was a warning call for all. Because The Aztecs believed that the end of days, would come when there was a story about the bat in a good light, a story that the people would adore, wheres before they had, bewared the bat, the nightmare."

"In such a story, this nightmare was seen as a symbol of hope, for where there is hope, there is possibility and so there is love for us all?"

* * *

Jerome then told Dr. Jeremiah Arkham and he said to him this time. "The bat hangs and sees the world upside-down, and was made in the heat of the sun, through suffering much like, a sacred dance of the people of turtle island."

"Such a dance, is of suffering, of healing, of hope, the end and of rebirth. At the centre of the dance is the sacred tree, our universe which is apart of a forest, of many worlds much like this one we live in."

"The Sun dance represents the universe and hold the fabric of reality together, much like the great turtle that agreed to become the land and gave us a home, after the great flood had destroyed the old world."

"This great land is called, Turtle Island, which is also called, as we know it, The Americas and the new the people of Turtle Island, see it as the whole world, all of Earth."

"The Sun dancers suffer from pulling bison skulls, piercing, burning, cutting piece of flesh, or hang from the tree stuck in agony, all with no food and water over many days. All for the good of the people."

"When the dancers come out, who are dressed up as death, the wendigo, the cannibal clown, the crooked nose, though they are not. But they are the sun dancers, sign that the end is near and dear."

"The cannibal clown dancers have come to cheer up the sun dancer and dance with them at the end, but they must do so in silence. Theses clowns are near and dear to the sun dancer for, they are friend and family."

"Only when the dance is finish, will they find out whom had been with them at the end. During and before, The Sun Dance, all is a mystery such is life and death. Though theses clowns, look ugly beyond belief and could bring nightmares at the sheer sight of them."

"They are joyful movement, and they bring the end of suffering. Though you cannot see their smile, for it is underneath there dark mask of death, it is there nonetheless. The clown brings joy to the heart, so that the people could be healed, thus the world can be renewed, and all can rejoice once again."

"The sun dance is like an echo of suffering, the hunger and the thirst. Which must be endured, as theses dancers are one in the same, in that regard. For they understand such suffering, and pain, us one had known the other's pain, thus The Sun Dancer and The Cannibal Clown Dancer, mirror each other in that sense."

"People come far and wide to be healed by the shamans, at The Sun Dance. The people bring offerings of sacred medicine to the four fires and bring gifts to the shaman that is to heal them, and this gift is of meaning, not just value of wealth, a good doctor will take what is given."

"When the cannibal clowns are out, they would take anything that is not nail down with a white sheet, as The Sun Dance is nearing its end, and soon after there is a great feast of the harvest?"

"It's said that the world would end, if this dance is forgotten by the people of turtle island. Then all will be lost, but it doesn't have to be. It doesn't take a genius to see that family and community are being torn, much like time and space and these are all tied to one another, it's all connected."

"Because these values don't fit neatly into the cube and no one wants to think outside the box, but doesn't love conquer all, there is no need for boxes or labels. As these things will divide us and then there will be hate, making us slaves, all dead inside and soon, just dead like a dream or future?"

Jerome had finally told the doctor, what was ailing him and he told him.

"I want to go home, but where is home... is this home now?"

* * *

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham knows all to well, what a broken family was capable of and it was Death and Madness. For he had seen it first hand and he wonders, why he had held on to hope for so very long. Hopping had caused him such pain and anger and was the root of his disappointment. The horror of watching fools, try to bring hope, to where there was none, it was sheer madness.

Jeremiah had wished that he never-stepped foot in that haunted household that funhouse of mirrors, that labyrinth of lies and hidden messages that made him question, his sanity. He recalls the terrible feeling that were lined with excitement just like, the time in the liquor store and he recalls that moment like, it was just yesterday .

An escaped lunatic held up the liquor store with a shotgun and Jeremiah Arkham, just so happened to be there, at that moment. He wanted to clam the derange man down and he discovered that the derange man was simply looking for his father. Jeremiah told the deranged man that his father was no longer alive.

Which set the deranged man to then kill himself, covering Jeremiah in his blood. This was the moment that Jeremiah Arkham, knew that he wanted to work with the unbalanced and was the reason why, he end up meeting Paul Cicero, The Blind Fortuneteller of Haly's Circus.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham had meet many that lost their heads with just a chance encounter of The Blind Fortuneteller, yet there were many that went on their own accord and Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, just had to stare him in the eye.

Paul Cicero seemed so uncaring yet he wanted his son to be well, but Dr. Jeremiah Arkham failed and now he was struck with Bruce Wayne and Jeremiah Valeska, it was strange yet not at all. Recalling that night, he had went out of his way to meet Paul Cicero, that day he'd never forget it, even if he tried, he'd recall, what he had said to him.

* * *

"In the cold dark there is a price for there to be light and it is a heavy toll. A demon will come and set its sights on everlasting fright, and the match is struck and sets a blaze, so begins this game with the devil."

"Hell rises, heroes fall and hope is lost, only then shall you make your appears for all and out of the fire and suffering, shall rise the one that hold the joy of the sun, the dark night. All I ask of you is but a simple task, watch the joy of my eye like, a king and be entertained as such."

"This Demon that I speak of, longs to be whole for it has lost its head, its essence and now it wonders the underworld, while its corpse still walks among the living, hollow and empty, cursed by death, just as I have."

"So watch carefully for all is within your grasp but beware, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham. The Eyes of Seven and choose your three picks wisely and remember your enemy is greed and unkind yet he doesn't see it that way, not at all. If you fail, the serpent will appear and make you choose your fate, eat or be eaten!"

The old man's voice fades into the darkness of Arkham's mind and he stares at the sickness that was before him and he calls back. What he had acquired of Jeremiah Valeska, The Prince of Crime and The Joker.

His barbarous mother had hid him away and for a time, all was well in the world, he thrives in the light of day and shined just as bright. Yet, Jeremiah Valeska would soon learn that all good things must die.

What was so bright had got too close to the ground and was lost in the darkness of the night and there he remains, stuck in a tree and no one could save him or anyone else for that matter. She trapped her son; in a sense and he lived underneath a great tree on the outskirts of Gotham, far away from any another souls.

Because he lived in fear of his darling little brother, who dreams of finishing, what he had started. Jerome had tried to set Jeremiah on fire and failed, yet he did not for Bruce Wayne saw the light in the darkness and Bruce's suffering began.

Jeremiah Valeska only ever known darkness, yet that was not true for he had his Ecco too keep him company, so he told and he said. " She was my moon and my compassion, yet I did not treat her as such, oh well...I guess... better luck next time? Pfft...Ha-ha...Yeah right!"

The way he talked about her seemed like, she was the love of his life but now it was just a game of tug of war, between sweetness and harshness.

Jeremiah Valeska could be so frigid, hostile and the way he spoke was mean-spirited. Ecco was indeed, dear to him but there was disappointment in his voice, when he had said.

"She danced with me in the dead of night and sang to me under moonlight and everything was delightful for a time, she knows me, so well... but I lashed out and she was hurt, I hurt her...I."

"Now she disguises her sorrow with laughter and paints her bruises in pale moonlight... as she wears rugs that are as dark as the night... Ha...She thinks that she could have calmed my heart's desires of living in a would that is burning!"

"I only see darkness and I burn anyone that gets too close...Just look at what happened too Gotham! Now can you believe that she wanted to be with me, even when I had warned her that nothing ends well."

"Shit happens all around me, all the fuckin time... but she never listens and so, I had too show her once and for all... Arkham, I will kill you, where you stand, if you dare try to understand me, ever again...so help me...I will end you, if you ever bring her up again!"

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham had finally met Jerome's twin brother, after all these years of second-guessing himself, he found Comdhan, which meant twin. This name Comdhan, Jerome loved with all his heart because their mother, only ever called him that, but that was a just another of his lies.

Jerome only ever called his brother Jeremiah by Comdhan, not that snake charmer; never did she call him by such a name. As she was just a begotten, shadow of what a mother should have been.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham had come too knew the twin's struggle and how their mother had ignored them all too well. After all they were just a cruel reminder of what, she had done, so very long ago down by the river on that winter's morning in February, so she had believed.

Lila Valeska had lied and told herself, a sad story that spoke of bitterness, as she looked into the eyes of her killer and she had said coldly to him that night. "Help...Hahaha...I lost myself... I lost everything that meant anything...Hahaha... You and I were never real? This is hell and you're just the devil in my eye! Ha-ha foolish boy!"

To their mother, all this was just a sick joke of her twisted mind and their father was no better, for he could never care to save them from her hopelessness and Jerome hated Paul Cicero for not saying a word that time and the many other such times.

The blind man was their father but people never knew, till Jerome killed Lila. The old man was trapped in darkness and could not careless, as he put it but that was a beautiful lie on his part.

Because Paul Cicero had helped Jerome clean up his mess yet there was more to this story. As it seems that Paul Cicero was really looking for Detective James Gordon, reasons only he had known and took too his grave.

All Dr. Jeremiah Arkham knew was that Captain James Gordon and Dr, Leslie Tompkins were witnesses of Paul Cicero's sons' madness and Arkham wonders, what it was all for, this scheme of his that promised that Arkham would be feared and adored.

Jerome never let on that he had a brother and kept that close to his chest, crossed his heart and hoped to die with a needle in his eye. So he would not tell, no tall tale but that was just Jerome, planning to kill his dear old dad.

Lila Valeska, the dark beauty had put Jeremiah in St. Ignatius after Jerome tried to set him on fire and he became Xander Wilde, a bright boy with a future but all that was lost. For a moment, it was as if, Lila had grown a heart yet damned and labeled her other son, evil and unworthy of her new found love.

Jerome had always talked about his mother so vilely and he said. "She could never care for any of us, as long as she was alive, After all, this world was not real to her, as she believed it and so, I just had too kill that cold hearted bitch, who could never love anyone!"

Jerome believed that his parents should have been as dead as Thomas and Martha Wayne. He was so hurt that his so-called parents ignored and abandoned him, and so did his brother, who was lost to the Wilde.

The circus had no point, no joy for he was abandoned there and it lost, all its meaning. How could he watch, The Flying Grayson's by himself, when he had no family or brother to enjoy the show with.

Jerome had dreamed of being a star, yet he was shot down, time after time. Jerome fell hard into the ground and his brother; Jeremiah took his spot, in the spotlight and all hell broke lose and darkness set in for the long night.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham knew Jerome's pain, all too well and how it consumed him like, freshly picked roses on a grave in the middle of nowhere and Bruce Wayne's suffering echoed both Jeremiah and Jerome Valeska.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham recalls the many tales that The Valeska Twins had told him over the years and he recalls, what Jeremiah had discovered in his readings of, Jerome diary and all about the legends.

These stories told a grand tale that stretched beyond, mere reality as Jerome wrote. These small tales of The Ojibwa didn't seem to interest Jeremiah Valeska, yet that was not the case, he hide that fact.

There was something eerie about Jeremiah Valeska, when recalling such a legends to him, as Dr. Jeremiah Arkham put him through, isolation and stuck him in state of sleeplessness.

If Jeremiah fell a sleep, he'd experience the shock treatment of his therapy, but he was lucky to have been punched out like a pay stub. Other times, Jeremiah had been in a drug-induced coma, just like his counterpart beside him.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham had been curious and had to see, what this legend about The Robin, meant to him or anything at all. Because if it did then, Arkham would knew if, he had his father's ability to find patterns within a system, or if he was truly a mirror of his father and if so.

Would mean that he could communicate with the dead and the great beyond and so, he dug up, an old recording of Jerome telling the legend about The Robin and how it came into being.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham recalls the details of such a matter and he remember the legend, like Jerome was telling him and he hears his voice, yet again like it was clear as day and Jerome said.

* * *

"Long ago when everything was young, a father had said. "The time has come." For his son to go out into the world and seek out his vision quest and become a man. The boy's father and mother would stay be hide in their home and they watch from their door, their son going into the woods, hoping to see him again, one day."

"The vision quest demands that the son, take no food or water, till his vision had come to him and his totem was known and only then could he think of going home again. Many days and nights had passed and yet their dear son did not return."

"Cold winds set in and before they knew it, winter's storm had passed yet still there was no sign of their son. They opened their door, in hopes of seeing their son but all they had seen was a small bird and the bird said to them."

"I am the first sign of spring, I am Robin and this is what came of your son, he had died in the coldness of winter. Robin flew away up into the sky, leaving the family broken. Many days, many nights and many seasons had passed and the poor parents were blessed, once more with a son. This time they knew better and they were grateful to have Robin."

"The Robin is sometimes seen, as a dark omen like; a death in a family. Yet other times, The Robin is a blessing in disguise for the robin has come to protect the family. Because a death in the family is a hard wound to heal from but love heals all wounds with time."

* * *

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham had gotten a reaction, yet it seemed to be that there was no response, except for the usual, the laughter, the uncontrollable laugh that could turn your blood cold as winter's breath, a success really, as it didn't matter now.


	10. waking hollow and empty

Recalling such tales Dr. Jeremiah Arkham could see why, he had too watch Jerome Valeska? It was because he knows the pain of being broken, all too well and how that made him seek it out in others, so that he could see that there was still hope in helping but that was a lie he told himself like, a unholy chant. Dr. Jeremiah Arkham thought at first that he could indeed help Jerome Valeska but he had changed that for him, when he said.

"There is no need to help...for there is no point...you'll see the total waste of time that is. Especially when, the world simply doesn't care any more and can easily look away like, there was nothing to see, wow right?"

"No, just smoking mirrors, enslaving us all to his whim like, the sun at dusk, which burns brighter just before the darkness was too come. A poor sucker was chosen and dressed in black, this young man would live in a lap of luxury like he was the sun god himself."

The poor soul would go out into the night and into the city with 8 young boys dress in um, hummingbird outfits? The young man and his birds would collect what his heart, so pleased, be it justice, or whatever, he'd get it, one way or another and there was nothing anyone could do."

"Because his fate was sealed, therefore the cycle of life and death continued. Anyways, the little birds would follow the poor soul that was to be feared and adored. As, if he was their god, in the flesh or maybe he was the devil or maybe both, all occurring at the same time?"

"The people of the great city would fall face first to the ground insight of the little birds and they would not dare look at the dark figure in the eyes...bwhaha...type of vibe, you know?"

"At the end of the year, the poor sucker would be taken without warning, one night. He'd be stripped, painted black, blindfold and married in an abandon temple out of sight and out of mind, far away from the city."

"His blood would flow freely, his limbs torn in four, his head cut and casted down the temple. Except his heart and blood that would be gathered and then offered to the fire, the sun and their god."

"Just to please, The Sun God for this was his sacrifice, he had made for the people that he ruled and they followed without question, though they feared, they also were glad to be his!"

"Don't you get it? Hahaha...you're stuck in a loop of death and madness...how many times was the world rebuilt, I wonder, shit I've lost count! You? Yeah,waking hollow and empty yet again like, a broken record, on and on?"

Jerome looks at his hand and he smiles, as he made a fist and laughs and the old memory fade into the dark of Dr. Jeremiah Arkham's mind. The joke was made painfully clear to him and all alike and it took shape when Gotham was abandoned and ignored by the rest of the world.

* * *

The doctor knows that James had tried to reach the world like, the prisoner of war, he was and still there was nothing that he could do to change that. Yet Five still tries and fails, just has Captain James Gordon had and he must feel empty just as Gordon feels hollow?

Jeremiah Valeska made sure that everyone saw the punch line; clear as day, as there is no helping him or anyone else, for it's far too late and the shit is going to hit the fan. It's only a matter of time and time has lost all its meaning, days feel like, years and years feel like centuries. With that kind of feeling sitting in your gut, the mind would surely go in blood and tears.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham now sees that it was Jerome Valeska that made it all possible, not his father? Because all this emptiness and uncaringness was just how the world works and there was nothing, except the blind.

There is no one left to fight against that state of mind and surely this is hell on earth or maybe it has always been hell and Gotham had to learn this the hard way, so that the world could stay stuck in the mud.

To think otherwise was madness and there is no helping what doesn't want or need help. Especially when everyone accepts the same thing over and over again to remedy the illness and keep death at bay.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham saw so much illness and there was nothing he could really do, just as he did that day. When he drove a man to kill himself, leaving his bloods on his hands and smeared across his sorry face.

In many ways he also blames himself for Jerome Valeska and the destruction he had caused which lead him to kill himself by letting go. Gravity did what it does best and now Dr. Jeremiah Arkham was left with all the pieces of the broken glass and it cuts deeply, blood pools and falls to the ground like, fresh snow.

These pieces that fell were now in front of him and they were in a world of their own making, as they sleep. Now that they are dead to the world, in many ways yet they are the keys to unlocking true monsters of the night, which are to battle one another.

To the winner, true immortally and they would have the power to make the heart's desires come true like, the devil himself. Dr. Jeremiah Arkham had hoped, all that Paul Cicero had said was true, so that his desires would then come true, for he had not lost his head or his life yet that was a beautiful lie?

It all sounded too well too be true and it was sheer madness too say the least. Dr. Jeremiah Arkham had become sick and tired just like everyone had and that fuelled his boredom and disappointment with the world he had known, all to well.

As he had believed that there was no god, let alone the devil yet he heard many said that god is dead and his fallen son is no more, so there is nothing to fear but there were others, who had told another tale.

* * *

Now that his seeing the picture, it excites him yet there is a deep darkness that had always frighten him but this way he felt, alive and that meant something, even if, it was just another lie that he wants to believe.

After all he had done to get to this point he wanted it to be over and his named remembered in the heart of Gotham. Though he thought he could be The King of Gotham but now he knows that Gotham needs something more than to be controlled like, they are now but maybe not?

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham learnt that Jerome had played a cruel trick on his dear unforgiving brother and it was not meant to be funny yet his brother is laughing, all the same. Feeling the existence of the undying loop that everyone was in had weighed heavily on the soul.

Yet Dr. Jeremiah Arkham was asking himself, why he hasn't ended it all like, so many before him. It could be, him wanting to see what Paul Cicero had promised. To restore his family's name to glory but it was a lie and that was all he had ever wanted.

Yet that too was nothing more than another lie, he had faded away like, a moth too a flame. All Dr. Jeremiah Arkham had really wanted was for everyone involved with his family's madness, too pay and dearly pay for their crimes.

The people who had come to call Gotham home, were all to blame especially; Thomas and Martha Wayne, because they were no better than the rest that watch them all. The Arkham's were used in Jeremiah Arkham's eyes and he wanted the pain to reach them all and they would know, what it meant to be the last.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham never knew the full story of his family, how could he when he was but a child. Arkham Asylum was so sought after and everyone forgets that Arkham was his not theirs.

* * *

He didn't know what history these walls would tell if, they could and they would say. This land was sacred to the old nation that had once made their home here, for they had buried the spirit of all the weapons of mankind.

This evilness was buried under a great tree and the warriors guarded this tree with their lives. For this tree kept evil at bay, so that life could have a change to live happily as families should.

To be a warrior, you can only begin to fight such evils by not doing as evil would and that is to kill. Warriors need not pick up a weapon for they have all that is need to win the real battle.

You're a peacekeeper first and foremost and your greatest weapon cannot kill yet it can destroy evil in its wake. Close your eyes and breath, can you hear its call, can you feel the warmth dancing in your heart, its there, it has been there all along, surpassing time and space.

* * *

The Arkham family had cut down the tree and the people, who were the land keepers. The Arkham's were asked with dying breath to watch and keep the land save and sound but they did not listen and madness followed closely.

There were other families that came and still no one cared to answer their plea. How could they hear in the mist of metal and glass that was built atop and so the evil spirit manifest in a weapon of the times, a weapon that is said to bring the arrival of the dark universe for there is no tree to hold it back.

* * *

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham's hands were full and tied to Paul Cicero, for he had promise him that he would watch his son Jerome Valeska. Arkham remembers, what Jerome had told him all those years ago, when he was but a child and he said to him.

"Do you know what my favourite animal is? Will let me; tell you...it's the bat! The reason being, is because people are afraid of them just like, clowns...Hehehe...Did you know that because the bat is feared, it is said that in the end of days."

" There be a story that put the bat in a good light and people would love and adore, instead of hate and fear the bat. I think that this saying has deep meaning and we should not fear, so easily for love conquers all?"

* * *

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham saw the obsession and what that did to the poor boy's mind and looking back he must have been secretly looking after the two? Because at times Jerome was kind yet other times he was mean and cunning, twisting everything he could. It seemed that there was no helping a person, who doesn't want to be saved, especially when they think that they are beyond saving.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham could see how much Jerome had adored, the legend of how the bat came to be. Jerome had tried to bring that story to life and he lost his brother for it and ultimately lost his life.

Jerome lost everything, because all he had ever wanted was to see a hero rise from out of the ashes and bring light to where there was none but he failed. First will Jeremiah and then with Bruce Wayne for the bat is just a dagger that takes life away for Ra's al Ghul made it so, what a crying shame.


	11. In a dream within a nightmare

Dwelling in an eternity of darkness, madness takes ahold and would not let go, without a fight. After all the years of infliction that was caused in the pursuit of rewriting a wrong, and making a dream come true.

To take back the castle that bears his name, but all that had turned to ashes, yet again. All he had ever wanted was to make, all who had casted out The Arkham's like; they were unwanted guests at a dinner party, too pay dearly.

For the ruling families of Gotham, should have never whittled, The Arkham's down to size in a blood bath that left him, all alone with a broken outlook. Deep in his heart, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham never saw himself as mad, like the rest of his forsaken family but as a godsend.

For as long, as he could remember, his dream was to help, the unbalanced. For a time he had thought that he could really help the lost, but that was just another lie that he told himself, over and over again. As if, he could not face the cold hard truth that he was more trouble, than good.

For a brief moment, a chill fill the air and he felt grim, but that fall way to an aimless sense of survival that asked of him, everything. Before he had truly drifted away, Jeremiah found the dust of his soul and he sought, direction, even if, it was yet another of his many lies.

All his life, Jeremiah had wanted to runaway from the truth and hide in dreams and fantasy, for reality was just a disappointment and a distant place to him. In the end, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham was no different, than the rest of his family tree.

Never did he understand, what his family had stumbled on and used, unwisely. This hollow ground, which came to house his name Jeremiah Arkham. A most ghastly haunted place, where the unthinkable of horrors took root, like that of a parasite.

Such a place is indeed like, a haunted house that had taken the home's heart, a fading memory lost beneath the dirt. In the dark subconscious of the mind, the eeriness of space that is hauntingly beautiful yet somehow, tauntingly ugly.

Unrecognizable, the innocence's of such a heart, which is fixated on the concave mask, as if, looking at a mirror on the wall. Such illusion of dimensions that echoes with a familiar song and dance that pulls at the fabric of reality.

Which puts the fear of god, upon you like, a smile upon your face. True madness, the melting of flesh and the consuming blaze to which there is no escaping such a cage, except beyond the pages of destiny.

The notion is beyond, simply gravity and brush strokes. Bleeding into a collected dream that ties matter by the red sting of fate that is beyond time and space, itself. The red sting is but a web of a dreamcatcher meant to protect the sleeping children from the nightmare.

Worlds colliding, reshaping themselves, only to neglect the abandoned child in a dream within a nightmare, an endless nightmare. Which there is no waking up from, a cruel joke of twisted fate. For such a little darling could only feel the cold darkness of an endless winter, to never know the warmth ever again, gone was the sun, never to return.

* * *

The Arkham family soured, the land with their depraved experiments that had caused so much bloodshed and decay, which had brought about their ill, sureness. True power, belonged to them alone, for they took it, and so began, the beginning of their end.

During the time, when Gotham was but a distant thought, The Arkham's had cleared the land of the old and for this, they believed that they earned, a spot at the table. The Arkham's crimes hid their growing knowledge of war, as they had found unimaginable power and it plugged them further into malady.

The Court of Owls never saw past, what they had seen with their own eyes, and they believed The Arkham's were nothing more than implements to be used. Untill their truth was revealed and they were casted out like, a rotten apple, so they believed.

The Arkham's desired to sit atop a throne like a king, for the one that they served was unworthy in their eyes. So began, their plot and they held a sinister power that loved to whisper in their ears. Which told them, all they needed to hear and it said many times too one another.

"There could only be one king, so kill and leave but one in your stead." What a wonderful song of lies that they heard like, it was a war cry of the unjust."

The Arkham's had brought destruction, so that they may usher, anew era into fruition. An era that would place them front and centre, but little did they know that they were already a centrepiece much like a decapitated beast, whose head was mounted on a wall.

Ra's al Ghul already knew of their plans, and was simply, playing them like, an adored instrument. In order to have the advantage, by gaining him more clarity, of the flames and darkness that he envisioned would come to be.

The Arkham's had a very important role in all this, as they had unleashed a great evil on to this world, by cutting down a mighty tree. Such a tree, a nation had guarded in the hopes that what many generations ago had buried, wouldn't invade our reality, like it did, so many other dimensions of existence but there was no stopping it.

For such an evil would one day, manifest into a time of great depression and it would take everything, near and dear. This emptiness lays dormant, hidden in the dirt, the roots and the dark.

It would bring falsehood, in the form of a seed, a poison that would change the tides of the heart to damnation and bewilderment. Unearthed, was the spirit of all the weapons of mankind, metal, small and worthless to look at?

Ra's al Ghul had seen such things with the use of The Demon's Head and he knew, his place and what was needed of him and so. He hid away deep in the shadows, to stage a ruse, one that The Court of Owls would believe, profoundly.

It was not hard to do, all that was needed was a tick of the hand and one was simply reminded of the fear that once set root in their hearts. The Arkham's are monstrous and sharp; they cut down anything in their path like, a crazed beast that could eat you alive like, the serpent.

Ra's al Ghul placed The Shaman to secured, his rule and control, over the flames that he had envisioned so very long ago. Out of that fire, a dagger forged, that would secure his triumph, in conquering death, itself.

In that instant, Ra's al Ghul was transported to a battlefield that was nothing like, he had known yet felt as if, he had known all his life. Surrounded by darkness and in the distance; he could hears an echo of a voice, which would stop you dead in your tracks, chilling you to your core with fear swiping you from the history pages.

The sound of rushing of wind and water that smelled, as metal does and could only mean one thing, blood. In that intense moment a crippling presence made itself known. It was heavy and decrepit with every kind of fright, imaginable.

Such presence, would take his youth, if he had such a thing but all he had was his memories of such a long and forgotten time. Ra's al Ghul had endured such a presence once before and doomed him to walk amongst the living and cursed to use the Lazarus Pit, while never being whole.

The darkness was overwhelming and he could feel the pull and push of a whirlwind that trapped him in his place. Suddenly a chilling screech took him by surprise and he opened his blood shot eyes.

It was clear, the cave, the walls of flowing blood and to his horror, above. The God of Death, Sacrifice and The Night, such a glorifying and fearful deity known as, The Death Bat. The Death Bat spoke in a seemingly dead language yet some how he still understood such a heart-shattering echo of a voice that told him.

"The end of days is near, broken are time and space and so is this world, this universe and the next shall witness doom and despair thus, this is their warning. So watch closely and be amazed, horrified and perplexed that you were able to see, what was once just a thought of fantasy echoing a similar song and dance."

"The wave of death will take the creatures of the water and wash them a shore. The second wave of death will be of unheard sound but not to the creature of the sky and land, both shall fall like, stones of marble. The awful sound will continue and awaken; the artificial and the dead and they will attack and bring madness and death to all of humanity."

"The earth will shake and the dry land will catch fire, fuelled by stale winds, hunger and thirst will take a toll. Other places will face bitter cold and up rooted trees and there so called power, will fail them."

"The mockingbird, the great divider of the first world will come to talk and talk and lead the worlds to decay. The battle ends and begins with the last sunset and first nightfall, time is shattered."

"The fluidity of all existence bleeds into one another, till there is only one. The end is near and will come down like, crushing waves of death, in a sea of sorrow and bitterness."

"This is a warning call, five eyes is the sign of the beginning of the end, of our book and the world that houses such tales of old and new alike. To you, Ra's al Ghul, this is your key, five's eye, the only chance for eternal life, so heed my call, nine lives are better than one."

"After all this is just a dance, so bear witness to the struggle that is tied to the sacred, the omniverse and the mighty tree. Something wicked comes dancing this way, thus marking the end of the one that suffers in the elements from hunger and thirst, for he was hung out to dry in the heat of the sun."

"This wickedness comes dressed like an eyesore, ugly beyond your wildest dreams and scary as hell, such a wicked creature of winter yet a gift. For this gift brings joy and laughter to the one that hangs in agony and despair, as a hidden message that warms the heart."

"For this dance that is about harmony, such is the force and the way of all things. The end is near, so beware the..."

* * *

Without warning the monstrous creature erupted into flames and laughter, which echoed in the dark. Ra's al Ghul did not understand death and his dagger, such a weapon had taken life but could also heal, any wound for such a blade had pierced, the enteral flame.

Ra's al Ghul, frozen in place, hears the breaking of glass from above like thunder; light bleeds into the darkness that surrounds him and he watches lighting streak across the night sky like a blood vein or the gold of a stone cup.

Overhead the bleeding light was like that of blooming roses unfolding in spring's morning dew. Yet was very much like, a spider dying at the end of its web in the dead of winter's night.

This blaze, echoed in his mind, such as daybreak and nightfall and autumn's watch. The pieces of obsidian glass falls like, ambers of wildfire, meteorites and the end of an age. The glass surrounds him like, a thousand bats flying about in a bell tower.

The thought of it all would have blinded him into madness, if it were not for. The great pull of a river rapid much like, a blackhole at the centre of the Milky Way and he feels incomplete and unrested.

In that moment he remembers his heart, ripped from his flesh and the fear of his last breath and the haunting image of an heir to come. The agony is incredible and he dare not sees, how dead he truly was.

He inhales the metal taste of his surroundings once more, as he goes under the sands of time and beyond the source, there he witnesses, a dream he could not out shoot or comprehend.

The flames, the despair that engulfed and drove many to the dark side of madness, bridges falling, the waters poison and forsaken like, a forlorn child much like, a redheaded stepchild.

In that instant, he recalls his deaths and his unseen opponent that lurks, just beyond the surface of all things and his one shot to end him was very close, yet very far away. But he could see his prize of war, to drink of the cup of youth and eternal life.

Ra's al Ghul understood that such a battle would take place, where the mighty tree once stood. Arkham Asylum a place with many secrets, including Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, the gatekeeper to what lies beneath.

Ra's al Ghul knew that he was much a spectator in the wings and the time has come, just as he learnt. Dr. Jeremiah Arkham was just as corruptible, just as impressionable, as the next helpless soul on the chopping block.

The Court of Owls took every opportunity; he had and twisted them in favour of their unseen master, Ra's al Ghul. After all, The Arkham's were seen as betrayers, they'd stab you in the back, if you were not watching and they'd take, the palms of victory.

The Court of Owls manipulated Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, as it was their duty to do so, like it was, a gesture of mercy, to spare one's enemy. After all he was but, a child that didn't know any better. That is till he grew up to know that his family were crazed murderers in a long line of killers and he was no better then them.

Which lead him to his misguided dream, to leave everything upside down. He was cursed to watch the madness unfold like it was, an ill-fated program. Fate was so unkind and so was he, for he made his choices and he pushed a deranged man in a liquor store to pull the trigger and end his life.

Looking back, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham would fear that day, which would haunt him much like, the thought that he had more in common with the deranged then he cared to admit. Doubt and fear twisted, his every movement, his every thought, but his dream still remains and so did his lie, the lie he told himself each and everyday.

"I could and I can help, the illness that plagued the minds of the hopeless, the lonely and the forgotten."

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham believed that his method could indeed help, a method that was very much like, phage therapy in the sense that he'd treat madness with madness. After all, he had thought that he knew madness very well, like the back of his hand that is till he met Jerome Valeska.

Jerome Valeska was like any child upon first glance, but he was truly a piece of work and there was just no fixing or controlling him. There was no amount of shock therapy or isolation that could hold him, for Jerome embraced the insanity like, an artistic genius.

* * *

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham watched the unfolding moments and the souls that surrounded him and he remembers it all, as if, it was just yesterday. Dr. Jeremiah Arkham held on to the obsidian mirror with such anxiety and elation, knowing that such a mirror once belonged too Paul Cicero.

The Blind Fortuneteller, who came into his miserable life like, a lucky break and it came at a cost. What Jeremiah saw that day, he'd wish to forget but hate too all the same for his life was like, a tennis match that ended in love, nothing.

Until Paul Cicero had unfolded the obsidian mirror that Dr. Jeremiah Arkham now holds, and he recalls the fright of such an artifact. The unearthly Paul Cicero had asked of him, his skills, to help what should be deemed broken beyond repair, such as his son.

If and only if, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham helped his son, then he'd give him, all his treasures of wonder. So that Jeremiah could restore, The Arkham name to its rightful glory. Paul Cicero told Dr. Jeremiah Arkham that his son would test him and all alike. His son would push him and anyone else to the breaking point and to the edge of wonder.

Only then would they see, what they truly were, by facing the mirror and the echo of infinity. What Paul Cicero's son set into motion was something else, something horrifying, much like being stuck in a dream within a nightmare.

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham was irritated by Captain James Gordon's attention and he couldn't help himself and he flickered light onto the captain's tired face and he told James in the bleakest of tune. "There is nothing, not anymore, so why...does it matter, what happens now?"

Captain James Gordon musters the will to speak up and plead with Dr. Jeremiah Arkham and he said. "Don't harm him, you've done enough." Dr. Jeremiah Arkham smiles and indicated, resentfulness and he said coldly.

"This boy is just a clone, a bad memory and the cause to our situation, It's true, really..so why, go to such lengths for him, a natural born killer, a monster...no...The Fallen such is The Devil."

James shouts with such despairing rage. "No, you're wrong!" The doctor seized this moment to glimpse the con that was lurking about in Captain James Gordon and he said with eeriness about him.

"It's true, this young man is a cold hearted killer...just as Jeremiah Valeska is and Jerome was. It's too bad that you see, him as a son and if, you had a son Captain James Gordon...I'd imagine that he'd be far worse, don't you think?"

James looks at Bruce Wayne and he sees, the broken and shattered body of his friend that came so far with him, especially during Gotham's darkest hour. Such a young soul had witnessed such death, such war and such tragedy.

Being a good solider, trained in combat by the very streets that took his family and friends that he made along the way. Bruce Wayne just wanted to help, even if, it was small, he believed that it was more then enough to set the remedy into motion.

The thing was that Bruce, didn't see that he took the heavy burden and suffered carrying that great weight up a steep hill, all the while, so little saw his pain. All because, he cared for Gotham and her people that called her, home, though the rest of the world would come to fear stepping foot in such a place.

For the world had sooner; wish to kill us all, by cutting us out like a cancer, either way dooming us to harsh judgement. The nation's capital would indeed tell, the country and the world that our city had never existed, like it was a false memory or a fiction.

Just so that the suits that run the big picture and the machine could feel save in their system that they put into place. James's mind wondered in fury at such a thought that many believed. As if, Gotham was just set pieces that can be destroyed like, some play and if, he believed such a thing, he'd be truly mad?

Dr. Jeremiah then said in great annoyance." James, wake up, don't leave us just yet... Look at your handy work..but don't take all the credit, his guardian and this poor bastard, helped too forge him!"

"So, tell me... how many do you think that Bruce Wayne Killed? And did you do as this bastard's father did, you remember him, Paul Cicero?" James did not acknowledged the questions asked of him, till Dr. Jeremiah Arkham flickered the light of the obsidian mirror onto him and he spoke with a trembling voice.

"Bruce Wayne never killed...it was Barbara Keen, she put Bruce's hands upon the dagger and drove it threw Ra's al Ghul, who erupted into flame and ash...Yes. I remember  
Paul Cicero, The Blind Fortuneteller; he was Jerome and Jeremiah Valeska's father."

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham then laughed and James knew that he exposed his secret, of Five being Bruce Wayne and Arkham was most pleased, as he gladly told James.

"No, that was the second time...think James, was there a time that he told you that he killed Ra's al Ghul and let me guess... you did not believe him, right?" Arkham felt, dead on the money and James's face spoke volumes and Arkham painted a clear picture and told him with such fulfillment.

"Bruce Wayne asked, if you came to arrest him for murdering Ra's al Ghul and you did not believe him, nor did you look into the boy's confession. Because all hell broke loose and there was no time as everyone was scrambling."

"Just to survive that night that endless nightmare that became our fate. The nightmare only got worse, as the army came not to help, but to dispose of Gotham, like we were all soulless creatures of the night."

"James, your hopeless, because you thought the worst had come and gone, but Ra's al Ghul had risen from out of the ashes like, a mythical creature of legend. For Ra's al Ghul was the true cause of this hellish fate that trapped us under his rule and casted as out of the collective of society. Right Jim?"

"I wonder, if there are other cities that meet such a fate as ours, oh the humanity. Thus we knew, what it met to be truly lost and Ra's al Ghul turned Gotham against one other, once more but this time it was beyond repair."

"Ra's al Ghul got a hold of Bruce Wayne but you told your men that it was Five and he was Ra's al Ghul's heir, his dagger and he was the devil that keeps out of sight. James... what an awful liar, but you saw Bruce Wayne fight and struggle to gain control of his body, mind and soul."

"The pain Bruce must have felt, as he watched himself do the things he did. Not to mention Alfred Pennyworth and Selina Kyle's suffering at the sight of him. First with his struggle in dealing with Ra's death and how he coped, partying and the devastation of Grit/Valour and I do believe that was Ra's al Ghoul's doing."

"Bruce Wayne pulled himself from the brink, only to leave once more like a runaway. The torture that Ra's al Ghul put Bruce Wayne must have been heart breaking and soul crushing, right?"

"Ra's pitted The Joker against Bruce Wayne, his instrument of death and he took his heart Selina, right? While a handful of allies and you, watched on in horror as the damage was done, such a wicked game?"

"The Joker made it so, by tricking Bruce Wayne into thinking that he was fighting Jerome Valeska. Yet in fact, it was Gotham, his heart, his home, his starlight and fairest moon, he fought tooth and nail."

"Bruce must have thought that he was fighting for Gotham but in fact was made to fight it instead just like, the army that came before. Ra's al Ghul made Bruce Wayne into a weapon and Bruce took the life that meant more to him, than all his wealth and power."

"The heartache was too great for Bruce and he slipped away into himself, as he slowly began to die, piece by blood piece. All was lost, yet at that very moment, Five came but it was to late. Now his the one trying to plead, just as you had. He knows, what you had to deal with, just as Bruce Wayne had seen, the first time around."

"The Riddler had found a map of hidden tunnels shattered across Gotham but were damaged, except for the designers initials X.W. Jeremiah Valeska had the answers to our salvation, all this time, but the army had found them and filled them up, so that we'd remain. All tunnels lead to Arkham Asylum but it was booby-trapped and now we are stuck deep in the mud, again."

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham smiles and pulls up the obsidian mirror closer to Captain James Gordon's hopeless face and he sees into the darkness, but he looks away in fright. James focuses on the comatose body of Bruce Wayne and the sleeping Jeremiah Valeska. Suddenly Arkham flashes the light pulling James away to ask him these questions.

"Is that Bruce Wayne or is that Jeremiah Valeska or someone else?"

James first thought was madness and he then said in confusion and exhaustion. "Bruce Wayne." Arkham whispers too himself. "Perfect." He then said louder like, he had an audience. "Who do you see in the mirror?"

James looked at Bruce like, salt in an open wound and he feels like, he was on the other side of sanity. Regret was all; James felt now, that he knew that he gave Bruce up to this manic.

James watches the life support system that had a fading heartbeat and he felt hopeless and furious, which was caused by sorrow and regret. Then he looked at Jeremiah Valeska, who was tied down just as Bruce was, but he was sleeping peacefully like, there was nothing too worry about.

It was beyond words, how he felt, seeing chaos in the flesh. The unfolding tragedy that would make him question, everything that was. For such things like, the matter of the heart, could not be, so simple but all consuming, nonetheless.

James struggled to stay awake, but managed to say. "What trickery is this?"

Because James caught sight of the obsidian mirror and he seen into it, as if, he was watching a movie unfold and what he saw left him mystified. Jeremiah Valeska in bandages head to toe, laying in a coma and Bruce Wayne sitting at his side with a worried yet hateful expression.

In that moment James faded into rest or was it death, all he could tell was that there was a shadowy figure that he somehow knew. This figure had the fragrance and conduct of death and deep darkness.

James stood in the darkness and suddenly thunder rumbled and sends his heart beating and just like that he was back. To James's shock, he was welcomed back by none other than Jeremiah Valeska, who was freed from his bondages, no doubt it was Arkham's doing.

Jeremiah Valeska dances with his dagger in his hand, but this dagger wasn't his makeshift blade from earlier. James thought of the dagger Barbara spoke of, which had killed Ra's al Ghul, yet it was not that dagger either.

This dagger was made of obsidian and imperial jade and the blade looked like a bat. Jeremiah raises such a blade above his head and he struck Bruce's heart, which set him a flame and his flesh melted and he turned to ashes.

Just as Barbara had seen of Ra's al Ghul and now James had seen of Bruce Wayne. Jeremiah Valeska erupted into laugher and fire, leaving nothing but an echo, smoke and mirror.

James's eyes cloud over with death as he journeys to edge and is plunged into dark waters. So cold there is no point in taking a breath, as he could not tell the difference between up and down.

Except that someone reached for him and pulls him up to the light and he sees the moon above. He coughs up blood, as hunger and thirst hits him like a wave of pain. He realizes that his face is pushed up against the iron bars as he gasps for air, as the icy waters pushed him into them.

This place he recognizes as the prison, Five described as hell on earth and a fabrication that his mind endured. When he was just a failed experiment of Indian Hill, which hide below Arkham Asylum out of sight.


	12. The world at my feet, yesterday gone bye

In the darkness of the night, the insignificance and loneliness; would take everything and leave behind a meaningless void. A true monster, who's haunting glare would make you feel as if, you never existed at all.

A monster that cuts all bonds tied to the heart. Love would give away to hate and despair. Disease and decay would set in with confusion, as death creeps and spreads across dimensions and worlds, like a virus.

This darkness was as the rain, heavy; the lighting, frightful as the darkness and death itself. The echo of thunder overwhelming and the cold, soul crushing, as once there was empathy.

The broken, calm as ever, yet somehow, alarming for being so, still and isolated. The imminent end, close at hand. He sinks into the mud, as the metal taste, filled his mouth, dropping blood upon the earth.

As if, he was an over filled cup; cascading with drink that promised immortality and riches. The young man's eyes empty, except for the reflection of the intense thunderstorm that is hauntingly beautiful, and all the while, frightful.

The thunder, dances in the night sky, like a distant despair that flutters; like wings of a bat. The echoes of fright surrounds him, like a cave and death itself. He had seen the cruelness, the frailty of the heart and of the world itself.

Which had turned him, as the bullet casings on the ground of that night, that terrible chilling night that left him; hollow and empty, on the street of Gotham. In many ways, it was as if, he was never found. Lost and trapped, at the same time, no matter; what he did or didn't do.

The young man covered in grim, coughs on his blood, as he could never escape the memory that remains, a sad song in his head, always apart of him and there is no running away or escaping it.

The insanity, this thunderstorm. Lighting hit's a mighty tree, setting it a flame, true chaos in motion. The young man stares at the flames in the distance and he realizes that he holding a living heart in the palm of his hand.

The young man couldn't tell, how cold and numb, he had become. He couldn't feel the warmth and safety that had been his heart and soul. He couldn't tell that he lies to himself, now that his heart was in his hand.

There was no telling, what he'd do with his heart. Would he crush it or not? Would he recognize, what is real and what was not? Could he see his reflection in a mirror and would he recognize himself?

There was no relief from the black clouds, the darkness, the howling wind and bone chilling rain. There was no end insight, to the madness and suffering that had trapped him within a nightmare of utter sorrow.

Gone were his innocence, his trust and now, his hope had been ripped from him and surely be lost. The young man was beyond, his ropes end and the echo in his mind was very much, dark.

The kind of darkness, one would find in a cave or that of the black mirror and the shadow of death. His though and memory, haunts him, like voices and screams that wants his attention, but he simply ignores in silence.

He lives in the darkness, as if, darkness was but a simply room that he cannot walk out of or look away from. Instead he, sinks further into the mud, all the while keeping an eye on the tree engulfed in fire.

He didn't know why, the tree and fire meant so much too him? He didn't know why, he felt the need to go to the flaming tree? Or why, he couldn't look away from it? The more that he looked, the more the light, blinded him. It was as if, he was looking at the sun and there is no seeing, just death and madness?

His heart in his palm, pulse like a solar flare, but it was too late. The emptiness gripped him in a choke hold, like he had hung himself? His heart stops beating and he stood lifeless, as he thought to himself.

"So this is the end, closure? The mud will burn come sunrise and become clay and nothing shall grow ever again."

The thunderstorm rages like, nothing before and the echo of such a storm; beats as once his heart had, much like a drum that marched him to war. The hate that never leaves, much like his shadow and his reflection that keeps him locked away.

The paranoia festers and confines him in suffering and despair, a world inside his noggin. This pain of his was a glaring reminder that his obsession was deep and drags him along.

This infection, an idea that he'd be followed home and he'd lay in ashes and ruin, no matter what, for it was inevitable. So, he never moved, ever since they had fallen and he recites the details of the night.

As if, it were a play of yesterday, today and the now, like it was a broken record on an infinite loop. This fear, twisted his sense of self and was tied to his home and seeing his home burn down.

Cemented, all that he feared, the nightmare was real and would follow him, wherever he went. This darkness would grow like spilled blood on the surface of water, till there was just blood to wash himself in.

This fear of his, had trapped him within a mirror and now, he'd haunt the grounds of his once home, hopelessly lost to the darkness. The root of his fear, was buried in the though of being happy and forgetting the signs of danger, only too be useless, yet again.

For his greatest fear and deepest darkness was that his greatest enemy was none other than, himself? If, he let himself be happy, truly happy again. He'd lose his family, his love but this time, it would the end of him.

Because there be no telling, what hurt and chaos he could unleash? Perhaps his greatest nightmare, would manifest and walk upon the land, shattering all in his awake? Leaving nothing but a villain.

Who thought himself, the hero of the story. Such a nightmare would infect all of reality, all realms with his call, his echo would break, all connections of the heart and bring death to all.

For this reason alone, The young man had felt that it was better to live in isolation, hidden from the light and the people he cared for and loved. He could hide with his billions and live a lie, knowing, all too well that money could never buy, true happiness.

Gold was just the symbol of death and he had plenty, in a world that was a vampire. His flesh felt as if, melted, ugly and deformed. Ever since apart of him had died in that ally, all those years ago.

He tried to find away to go on, living. But each time a threat bubbled up, he lost more, and each time he tried to rebuild, he couldn't? Seeing the bridges fall and everything burning. He knew that he was lost, truly lost at edge, as if, on cliff like a damn fool.

If he could laugh, it would echoed from the night that left him covered in their blood. Ever since than, he could never venture past his walls that keep him locked away hidden and alone.

The people in his life, but ghosts of the living that he had pushed away, thinking that it was best. After all, Bruce Thomas Wayne could never have a chance to just be. Instead he could only be a mask that could sell an idea.

Fate was so unkind, and so was the unkind king that came to collect him. A child without a future, but that of a solider and a weapon that would wage war and conquer all in his path, leaving gold and death, true madness.

Yet this child of fate had survived many close calls, till the unkind king rose from the ashes and the blood, like a nightmare that would crush. His story into the minds of all that he had conquered with the dagger, had he had kept close, near and dear.

Yet that was only the beginning of the unkind loop? The madness of it all, untold. The poisons that made the boy, the young man, undead. A wicked game, to undo and make all that came before, unfit to be understood. As if, all this death and madness was a bad joke that left the unkind king having the last laugh.

Such a unkind king sought to destroy, the oath made, for this oath was the duty. The one rule, that would guild, as if, it were a light in the night. For when the world turn upside down there still be hope for redemption and salvation.

The path to home would not be lost. Nevertheless, the unkind king put a stop to that nonsense and sought power and glory for himself. Gone was the oath, like it was a suicidal dream that was lost, except to him, much like a head stuck in the sands of time and space.

The child's echo, dull as dead skin or jokes thrown into the wind for he had forgotten, all about his oath. "I will not kill, I will not kill and I will not kill." There was nothing, but to obey the lies that were feed to him, like they were truths to warm the soul.

Blinded and reshaped, as the unkind king saw fit, so that he may live forever more. These lies told, have a cost and they cut deeper, than any blade could, but truth is always there waiting for the right timing.

Truth hurts and looks you in the eye, face-to-face, ugly and not for the faint of heart. The only problem was that Bruce never kept his oath, his one rule to live by and so, it faded away, like an incomplete tale.

There was no going back, not after the killing, and so the young man was lost. Sinking into the mud holding his heart, like it was a dead bird of spring. The thunderstorm wild as ever, seemed to express, what he could not.

For he had lost too great and so, he didn't know, how to feel, or how he came to be. He couldn't even recall how, he came to such a place as this, let alone, the devil in the details.

In that moment, he heard words unspoken and his pain that left him hollow. Drifts away like a lullaby into sleep; and he knew that he was still human. The young man heard the voiceless and he understood, as clear as day.

"Beyond, death and life, good and evil, the moon and the sun, there is salvation and redemption for thee. For time and space has imprisoned us all, so that we may understand, pass these walls, these pages and words. There is still a chance to hope again, to trust again and to love again, just have faith."

The fading of such loving and hopeful words fades from his mind. Leaving him all alone, yet again and there was no getting away from the pull. Which locked him away without a hope in the world, throwing the keys to the wastelands.

A dark figure slowly rises, from the mud as if, it were the first to walk the land. A chill fills him with panic and he remembers the crossfire and horror, yet again. The fall into darkness, the cave and the fear that was never finished with him.

He looks at the abyss and at the mountain of madness, before him. The dark figure drops peals and cufflinks that the hopelessness could set his gaze upon such agony, furthering his emptiness.

The poor heart erupts into fire and melts the young man's palm. His cold unmoved expressionless eyes glittered with the dancing of flames that burns his flesh. As the dark figure pulls him down, as if, a noose was tied to his right foot and there was nothing that he could do about it.

The dark figure grows in magnitude, as he shrinks in frequency and disappears beneath the mud, the beginning of the end. He tries, hopelessly to fight back but he could not, as he becomes pale as a smile. Finally he sinks out of sight, like a stone skipping on the surface of a lake and an ocean of sounds.

* * *

When he comes to, he feels scorched, like a no man's land, yet his surrounding tells another story. The whiling winds howls and resonances, just like a blizzard in mid February would.

The young man was unmoved, much like the crime frozen in his mind's eye. Soon enough he notices, his blood on the snowy terrain but, it is what, he sees next that moves him to the far edges of his tormented mind.

The pearl and cufflink in his palms, which were blacken with old blood, he wants nothing more than to cry, yet he laughs instead, which masks his sorrow and guilt. This guilt of his, rooted in his survival, the madness of it all had made him feel as if, he was the killer, the gun and metal of the bullet shells.

Such metal seeps and poisons all that comes into its path leaving ruin. A metal that leaves a bad taste in your mouth and burns you as if, it were the sun. This tune he found himself in was nothing but a lie, he sang, over and over again.

So that he wouldn't feel the need to be happy or alive again. Such a tragedy that he had felt such an evil in his heart that would consume. Madness utter madness and he recalls such madness made in a wish that set everything into motion.

A wish that he told himself to keep away the light and stay in darkness, so that he could be sad and he said with great hurt and suffering, as if just made. "I wish on a wishing star that I was never born, so I could never have lost them."

* * *

Suddenly his nightmare begins as it always had, which stirs much hate in him. He screams out to the bitter coldness, with all his power, as if he was nothing but flame and rage. Matches Malone appears before him and pulls the gun from his pocket.

The young man rushes without fear and they fall into flames. But it was nothing more, than an illusion of his mind and he had never left his icy environment. He struggles with the thought and he stands in the chill of winter's make-believe.

As a dark figure walks towards him and once again, it was Matches Malone but this time, he puts the gun to his head and shoots himself. The blood slaps Bruce across his mouth and his pale face, and he watches the madness unfold before him, like a rose.

Matches Malone's face crumbles like ash, revealing Bruce's young face from the night of the murders. Bruce coughs up blood, as he tries to reach the dead body of his former self, which lays face first in the deep snow. There he stood like a statue unmoved by the passage of time.

Yet this madness was everything to him and he kneels before the dead boy, the hollow shell. All the heartache, all the pain that he had to come face to face with, was none other than, the darkest part of himself.

The rusty trap that had been left all alone, like it was a running gag, lost to the many sleepless nights of an ill-fated crusade. Trying to escape the funny farm, the watchtower and fate itself, so that he could have a life that was real.

Such frustration, violence, starvation and fear had made war possible, beyond such ink and quill. The worlds had been damned to fire and ruin, as he stands far away, on the there side of the obsidian mirror in a blizzard.

Bruce had found, himself in the middle of a unholy war and trapped on the wrong side, struck hanging up-side-down without a way to escape such madness? He stands in this isolation, as lunacy takes ahold of him and he begins to laugh, at the sheer rot, he had become.

For such a place was truly a mirror. A universe that was dark and full of illusions of his heart. He realizes that he couldn't be free from the pages of this comical and tragic tale that he wished was but a nightmare, yet was very much real?

Bruce tries to reach his corpse but the hurt and the fear, finds him, always. The hurt, always the same and the stitches never last. The blood pours out, leaving him to his enemy and his only friend, lost beyond the veil.

There was never going to be any happy days ahead of him, just a tall tale of a never-ending story. That had lost all its worth and depth, no more could the young man believe in such a thing as love, hope and trust.

Nothing would be the same, not after the killing. Bruce stood in his loneliness, the winter's storm worsen with each breath, and the illusion took him further and further away. There was nothing between him and the void that would bury him in death's cold blanket.

Suddenly from out of the wash of winter, a robin appears and lands next to the dead boy. Clarity sinks into Bruce's mind like acidity, as he recalls. The life support systems that he was tied to like, a nightmare stuck on a web of a dreamcatcher that would burn come daybreak.

He then recalls a lullaby as if, it were the truth in disguise but the tears doesn't come. The robin whistles the familiar tune and Bruce recalls, the dagger that struck his heart and he said hurtfully.

"This darkness and the world at my feet, yesterday gone bye, so I'll dwell in these illusions of mine, forever and ever. There is nothing to embrace, no memory of me, myself and I. There is only the fight and it breaks the glass of past, present and future that circles the pieces of who I am. Fly away and let me be, for you should be afraid of me, beware the...!"

The Robin heard every hurtful word yet, he did not leave Bruce's side. Bruce stares hauntingly at the small bird that stood next to the dead boy's side. Bruce fell heavily to his knees like, he had the whole world upon him.

Suddenly Bruce hears foots steps in the snow and he shifts to the side towards the sounds, and he feels the wild storm. Finally, fear blinds him and he realizes too late. This storm and horrifying feeling, were one in the same.

The ghostly foot steps was closing in on him, for such a presence was death itself? Bruce hears the robin's wings flutter making him forget such feeling, as this fear and coldness so he could act.

But as Bruce tries to rise from the ground, he was stuck to the spot still like, a dead cat in winter. The stress tied him tightly, as if, he was a dead man hanging and this was his hell, his punishment for killing.

Yet the robin remained and would not let him go into the cold night, alone. The fleeing moment made him whole again. Somehow, it was beyond mere words and thought.

In that moment of warmth and safety, he recalls a memory, of his beloved mother and father. His father told him "These nightmares of yours will stop. Because your mother made you, this dreamcatcher." his mother told him. "Only the good dreams will remain, the nightmares will burn in the sunlight come morning." Both of them said. "After all, our dream as come true, so sleep our little one, our rise and shine."

The sound of the robin's wings swooping in the air, as if, the small creature was ready to fight the frightful presence, but instead the robin hit what seemed to be a wall, and silence.

Bruce feels the pain of losing his heart to a wicked flame of true horror and madness. Bruce tries to make a sound, but a voice of deep darkness haunts his mind like, a ghost of a distant past.

He screams in torment, but his cries fades like, an echo in a cave and he sees, as clear as day in his mind's eye. The robin dead in the snow, suddenly bursting into flames, and was now ash, it crumbles to reveal Bruce's bleeding heart. Bruce shook at such a sense of surroundings, as blood pours out of his mouth and covered his lips, such madness?

He can feel that his eyes were tearing up, but still he doesn't cry the tears froze. Alone again, except for the blind fear that held his eyes shut, he hears, the crunching of the snow and he knows such feeling. Overcome with grief and paranoia that weighs heavily on his shoulders.

Still, the tears frozen, only laughter of sadness remains. The cold, unbearable as he knew that the vile creature was devouring his heart. Bruce realized that the frozen landscape was but realm, that had broken him.

The sickness begins again. Bruce recalls the isolation of his hospital unit and how broken he had become. The pain in his cheat, his old wound from the dagger that linked him to a dimension, far away, beyond such death and madness.

In that moment, he remembers, his old friend. Who had killed him and dragged him to hell? But now, he was buried at the bottom of a bridge, like a hatchet. A secret, only time could tell.

Bruce was beginning to see, just what Jeremiah Valeska meant, when he said. " You can feel it, the connection between us?"

The loneliness had cost them dearly, and for what?. Never to be whole, out of reach and yet, so very close.

Like a lost dream, where he'd learn to ride the waves and run on a beach, freely and happily with his family. Hand and hand, as the sun sets. Building sandcastles together, safe and sound.

Not this nightmare that made him feel as if, he was not real, but a work of fiction.


End file.
